


Tried Letting Go

by Skquill



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Bisexual Evan Hansen, Borderline Personality Disorder, Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen) Has BPD, Connor Murphy Lives (Dear Evan Hansen), Gay Jared Kleinman, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Treebros, convan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2020-04-05 04:25:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19041085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skquill/pseuds/Skquill
Summary: A Connor Lives au, set to the same story we've all cried over.Evan Hansen believes that nothing he does will ever be remembered and that he will be forgotten. During a confrontation his world gets flipped upside down, causing him to get everything he wanted. All he has to do is pretend to be friends with a fellow classmate that tried to kill himself.This is a Connor Lives au.EDIT 9/8/19: I'm currently at college, and need to focus on that. So, TLG is being put on hold. I'm still writing as I go on!! Thank you all for understanding!





	1. Making It Up

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again!
> 
> I’ve had this idea for a while. Since last year almost. 
> 
> I love this story, and these characters. I wanted to write this with nothing but love.
> 
> Let's see where this goes.

_ The last thing I remember is the feeling of cold grass on my hands. My body was burning up, I felt bile rising in my throat. I didn’t feel like myself, but I hadn’t felt like myself in years. I was leaning against this big oak tree, on the top of this hill.  _

_ I was in a park. _

_ My mind was swimming with today's fuckups. Explosions of emotion that, for better or worse, sure did happen. But they weren’t going to happen anymore. I was going to put an end to it. _

_ I didn’t notice I was crying till my hands found that crumpled up letter in my pocket. My eyes looked over the letters as if trying to decode what it all meant. As tears fell on the paper. _

_ Maybe it didn’t mean anything? Maybe… Maybe I was never meant to find it.  _

_ I re-read it over and over again.  _

_ The letter was written in third person. The ending was a small ‘me’, which can mean anyone. The title was a name. The name of the person that printed the piece of paper. The name of the guy that I pushed earlier in the day. The guy who had a cast on, because he fell out of a tree like a dumbass, and… and a dumbass like me signed it. _

_ Evan Hansen. _

_ I liked the first line. The first line was true. The first line was the last thing I saw before my body went numb and everything went dark. _

 

_ It turns out, this wasn’t an amazing day after all. This isn’t going to be an amazing week, or an amazing year…  _

 

_ Maybe--Maybe it will be an amazing week, and an amazing year. _

 

_ Because I won’t be apart of it anymore. _

 

***

Evan sat at his computer, typing away a storm in the form of a letter. There was something calming about the sound of his fingers hitting the keys, but there was also a stab of anxiety at the realization that someone was going to read this. 

He wanted to come off as getting better, to show his therapist that he was making changes, but when he looked at the monitor all he read was an avalanche of words about how sweaty his hands can get.

_ Perfect. _

Evan tried to laugh at his own failures, tried to laugh at himself. But there was a point where the humor from being a fuckup stopped and the deep self judgement began; and he crossed that line a while ago.

He deleted the sweaty avalanche of words and started again. Back at the beginning of the assignment; back at the  _ Dear Evan Hansen _ …

_ Be truthful.  _ His therapist had said.

Evan started to type away yet again. All of his letters started with the same heading, the bad part of the repetitive heading was that Evan started lying about if today was going to be a good day after Dr. Sherman looked over his letters and his face was unreadable. 

_ He looked disappointed at how sad my life was. _

The lying about his summer was second nature. The problem was lying about how today, the first day of school, was going to be amazing. 

_ Well… It could be amazing. If I talk to the right people… Like if I talk to Zoe. _

At the mere thought of her, Evan’s hands got more clammy and his heart beat increased. He had a chance to talk to her, before school let out for the summer. She was playing in her jazz band, well, not  _ her  _ jazz band, in the jazz band that the school had; kind of like the schools choir or band or orchestra. But with jazz instruments, and covers of jazz-like songs. She was the bassists in the band. Off to the side, and kind of doing her own thing. He loved the small smile that appeared on her lips when she would have her little solo. Like she could be seen for once and she didn’t seem to mind the sudden spotlight. Evan couldn’t take his eyes off of her the whole show, solo or not. After it, he was standing outside the door waiting for her to come out. His hands were clammy and he wiped them on his jeans numerous times before, putting them under the hand dryer, and chickening out at the last second so he didn’t end up talking to her at all.  _ She looked so cute on stage, in person, she would have burned me alive with that beauty. _

He peeked at his screen. Seeing the reason why today was going to be great.

**Because today all you have to do is just be yourself. But also confident. That’s important. And interesting. Easy to talk to. Approachable. And don’t hide, either. Reveal yourself to others. Just be you--the tru you. Be yourself. Be true to yourself.**

He couldn’t form a run on sentence if there were just the constant stops of periods to replace commas. Every word was a thought in of itself. 

_ Poetic; to show that you have a lot of thoughts about how you should act like.  _

Evan took a breath. There was more under what he just read. his eyes moved away from his monitor so he could look at the damage when it was done. His eyes looked at his pill bottle, with a bottle of water that was next to it. His desk was neat, for once. The wooden surface would get cluttered again by the end of this week, most likely. 

A charcoal hoodie was hung on the chair. Evan had trouble wearing long sleeved things because of the hard cast on his arm.

_ Speaking of that... _

He’d been wearing it for some time. It was annoying, though he could still do most things by himself with it on. Granted, he had spent the rest of the summer in solitude once the incident had happened. Dr. Sherman had seen his cast and asked him what happened. When Evan answered his therapist, Dr. Sherman looked almost disappointed at the reasoning.

_ Thanks, Doc. Real big help. _

Evan’s eyes drifted back to his laptop.

“So you just decided not to eat last night?”

Evan shut his laptop and put it aside. “I wasn’t hungry!” He answered. His eyes moving to his mother. 

She was in her work scrubs, as always. Tie-dyed butterflies were pressed into the uniform, giving her a ‘fun employee’ look. 

_ Her words, not mine. _

The only difference was that she had this button up grey sweater on. And in her hand was a crumpled up 20 dollar bill. 

Evan swallowed, he couldn’t meet his mother’s gaze. 

“I just wasn’t hungry last night, is all…” He muttered. His hands fiddled with the quilt on his bed. “Wasn’t in the mood for pizza.”  _ That’s kind of what happens when you eat something so much. You get sick of it… _

“Well you could have called another take out place,  _ or-- _ ” Evan’s mom paused, as if trying to find some good in the day. “I know since you don’t like talking on the phone, you can order online! We’ll do that at work sometimes.”

“Good to know.” Evan added. His hands moved to the loose strings of his shirt. 

“If you do that, you don’t have to talk to people.”

“That’s not true, though!” The two of them seemed surprised at what was coming out of Evan’s mouth, the boy didn’t realize those were  _ his _ words, and that _ he _ said them out loud till they were drifting in the air. “Y-you have to talk to the delivery person, and just stare at them while they count the change…” 

His mother took a breath, pocketing the money. “Evan, you’re supposed to be working on this stuff with Dr. Shermin. Talking to people, engaging with people! You can’t do that if you spend all of your time staring at a computer.”

Evan could only give her a half hearted smile.

“I don’t want a repeat of last year.”

“Neither do I.” 

As he said it, Evan got off his bed and stuffed his laptop in his bag. 

As he reached toward the pill bottle and water on his night stand, his mother looked about ready to burst. Bouncing on her slippered heels.

“I made an appointment for Dr. Shermin today after school.” She finally said, causing Evan to nearly choke on his pills. Before he could object, she said, “I’ll pick you up; Have those pep-talk letters printed by then. He’ll want to see them.”

“Yup, I’ll have them.” Evan spoke as his throat burned at the near death experience.

“Hey, I know what would be a great ice breaker for the new year!” She reached into her the scrubs of her uniform and handed him a black sharpie. “Have kids sign your cast, it’s a great way to make friends.” 

Her eyes glanced at the clock, and she jumped. “Crap, you should head to the bus! Don’t want to be late!”

And then she was gone.

_ Not even a kiss to wish me a good first day…  _  Evan gathered his stuff, closing his door.  _ Granted, even if she did, I feel like I’m too old for that. _

Getting to school was the easy part, it was early in the morning and no one talked to him as he huddled in a seat and looked out the window at the world passing by. Once he got to school though, and was in the hallways, that’s when all hell broke loose.

What sounded like millions of voices were speaking all at once. Even in the early morning, everyone was talking, recounting their summers, comparing schedules, trying to get lockers open. It was hectic, and that was what high school was.

Evan felt a hand on his shoulder, two taps, and then, “Hey, how was your summer?”

Evan turned and looked at the girl who spoke up. Long braided black hair, denim jacket. She seemed to be bursting with energy. The teen looked around, unsure if she was talking to him. But even in his confusion, the girl continued.

“My summer was productive! I did a lot of different internships, for college credit--Because you gotta start somewhere right?” She laughed. Evan could only give a weak smile as he tried to form a word. “Anyway, I made some friends, or, well, acquaintances, but,  _ close acquaintances! _ ” She extended her hand. “I’m Alana Beck by the way, but people just called me Beck!” Beck’s smile was from ear to ear.

“Oh, that’s gr-”

“Oh my god,” She noticed. “What happened to your arm?”

“Oh… well. I fell.” Evan said it so quietly he didn’t think she heard him. His free hand reached in his back pocket for the sharpie. “Y-you wouldn’t mind sign--”

“You fell? That’s heartbreaking! My grandmother fell out of the bathtub last year, and broke her hip. The doctors said that that was the beginning of the end, because then she died shortly after.” 

Evan swallowed, pushing the sharpie back in his pocket.

Beck looked passed him, and smiled. “Well, It’s good to know that you at least had an eventful summer!” Beck waved him good-bye, and Evan just froze as she went to the next person and started talking to them.

The sting of tears started to burn his eyes.  _ First person I talk to and i can’t even get a single word out! _

This wouldn’t be the first time he cried at school, and he started to make his way to the bathroom before anyone saw. Sadly, he was stopped and turned around.

“Isn’t it a bit too early in the school year to get a boner?” Jared Kleinman spoke, his arm was around Evan, even though he was a bit shorter. “Like, dude. Don’t be that guy.”

“I wasn’t-- I wasn’t going to do that!” Evan protested. “I just got something in my eye!”

“How? You and I wear glasses.” Jared’s arm stopped trying to be casual and he lowered it. His hands went to the straps of his backpack, and began fiddling with them.

There was a silence, awkward or not, it was quiet between the two.

“So, how does it feel to be the first guy in history to break his arm jerking off.” 

_ Is that all you have to say?  _ Evan didn’t dare say that. “No!! I wasn’t--

“--Paint me the pictures you have Zoe Murphy’s insta on your weird, off-brand cell--”

“I WASN’T DOING THAT!” Evan said, louder than he had hoped. Then quieter, “I fell. Out of a tree.”

Evan didn’t know what the reaction would be to how he broke his arm. Jared just started to laugh, and as he did that, Evan tried to gather any remaining respect he had left.

“You fell?  _ Out of a tree? _ ” Recounting the memory didn’t make it heal quicker. “What are you, like, an acorn or something?” 

The broken armed teen started to fiddle with the loose strings of his shirt. “I got a job, at-at the park, I was a park ranger, well… a ranger in training and one day there was this big oak tree, and I wanted to climb it, and so I did, and---”

“And you fell?”

“Like, forty feet.”

“ _ Christ.”  _ Jared ran a hand through his curly hair, as if trying to contain his laughter.

“See the--the thing is, after I fell there was a solid, like, 10 minutes where I just laid there. Waiting for someone to come. Just there, thinking ‘oh, any second now. Someone is gonna come.’” Evan suddenly couldn’t meet his gaze.

“And did someone come?” 

“Nope. but- but that’s funny, right?” Evan finished.

The silence was deafening.

“How was your… summer?” Evan muttered, watching as Jared stretched as if he was the King of high school. Carefree.

“ _ Well,  _ my bunk dominated at capture the flag and summer camp was really freakin’ sweet. Met this blonde chick, and you could say that the chemistry between us was great because I got below the bra.” He had this smirk on his lips once he finished, Evan didn’t know if he was done or not. “So, it was a pretty average summer.” Jared finished, and put a hop in his step as if he was about to leave.

Evan found his hands reaching for the marker in his pocket. “You… Do you want to sign my cast?” That stopped Jared.

“Why are you asking me?”

“Be-because we’re friends…”

A sad, small laugh from Jared. “We’re  _ family friends _ .” He clarified, though it didn’t seem much of a clarification. 

Evan watched his back turn. There was no sting of tears this time.  _ Getting used to the daily fuck ups. _

“Oh, hey Connor!” 

There’s an image online, of a cat getting held at knife point, and the cat has this evil look in its eye like it’s not afraid. That was Jared, and the grey cloud he said that to was Connor Murphy, who seemed to have just entered school. His schedule was crumpled in his hand, but his knuckles were white.

_ Did he crumple it just now? _

Jared dug further. “Loving the new hair length.”

Connor’s brown hair was long, touching his shoulders. His clothes looked like a grey cloud, or ash pit. A mess of black and grey. His messenger back was in a tight grip with his other hand. He was tall, yet he still was wearing worn-in, black boots. One of the laces was tied in a double knot.

Evan didn’t even notice him till Jared called him out.

And then Jared finished. “Very… school shooter chic.”

The hall way seemed to grow cold. 

Connor turned to face Jared. “What, it was a joke!” Jared chuckled.

“Oh, yeah, no, It’s funny, I’m laughing, can’t you tell?” Connor said it so quickly, as if he knew what the day would be like. His dry tone was hiding something, though. He took a step forward. “Am I not laughing hard enough for you?”

Jared never backed down from a challenge, but in this instance, he stammered. “Y-you’re such a freak!” And then Jared was gone, and because of how quick he moved to get out of the situation Evan felt a small, nervous giggle rising in his throat.

“Why are you fucking laughing?” Connor said it so quietly, Evan didn’t hear him at first. 

“I--I wasn’t laugh--” Evan said once he registered who had said that. Fear rising up his spine.

“Stop fucking laughing!” Connor kept getting louder.

“I-I’m not!”

“You think  _ I’m  _ the freak?” Connor got close to him.

“No, I just--”

“I’m not the freak!” Connors arm reached out. “You’re the fucking freak!”

And Evan felt himself fall.


	2. Stars in Our Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan fell. As he gets up and goes through his day, he finds himself not in reality. Coming back down only when someone asks what happened to his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's start believing that we belong

Evan could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, the high pitch ringing drowned out any noise that students were speaking. 

_ It’s a fishbowl again. _

Everything was in slow motion, muted, and looked grey. A simple gesture of getting shoved caused the grip on Evan’s whole body to tighten. Everything hurt, and he was too aware of everyone's staring, even though he could only make out blurry students. He looked at his hands, they were trembling. He didn’t need his glasses to see that.

No one came to help, so Evan staggered to his feet. The heavy weight of his backpack mixed with his anxiety and made it seem impossible.  _ Maybe if my bag wasn’t as heavy, I wouldn’t have fallen so hard. _ He looked at his blurry hands, even with his bad eyesight he could see them shaking.

“Are you okay?” Evan heard a voice, and with his poor eyesight saw someone picking up his glasses. His hands still shook as he put them on and saw Zoe Murphy. “My brother did that to you, didn’t he?” Her voice was harsh, yet it seemed to also hold back something. “He’s a psychopath, I swear!”

If Connor Murphy was a grey cloud, Zoe Murphy was a constellation. She was wearing a long sleeved white shirt, with black stars on it. Her hair was brighter and longer then Connors. Evan recalled when he saw her at Jazz band, the light would shine on her sometimes and she’d smile, her hair looking almost like fire, hidden strands of red hair under a chocolate brown. Her eyes were a green forest, a dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks from the summer sun.

“I’m Zoe, by the way.” Her smile was soft, and her hand that was stretched out seemed just as soft. Evan quickly wiped his hand on his jeans, hopefully removing the sweat that was likely pooling in his palms. Instead of shaking her hand though, Evan just muttered, “Oh, I know…”

Zoe heard him, her hand fell and her eyebrow raised. “You know?”

“Yeah! Yeah…” Evan nearly blurted out. “From jazz band, I’ve seen some of your performances.”

“Oh,” Zoe seemed caught off guard by his comment. 

_ Why though?  _ Evan thought. With jazz, the spotlight was always on the brass players. Evan only saw Zoe play a couple of times. She was always in the corner, eyes closed and plucking at her baby blue bass guitar. Evan found his fingers hovering over the sharpie.

“Thanks for coming by and seeing the band perform.” Zoe said it quickly and quietly, before taking a step back. “See y--

“Would you like to sign my--” Evan, once again, blurted out. His volume made Zoe jump. When she turned around, Evan thought she saw a hint of fear. 

“Did you want--or say something?”

“What!” Humiliation wrapped around Evan’s neck. “No… way…. José.” He tried to laugh it off.

Zoe, her eyebrows scrunched close together, with a perfectly dorky smile, started to giggle. “Okay, José!” She waved to Evan before leaving, disappearing into the crowd.

It was awkward, but it was something. 

Evan engraved the image of her dorky smile in his brain. 

 

***

 

When he found himself in the computer lab, two periods left of the school day, Evan’s high had disappeared. The conversation with Zoe seemed like it happened weeks ago. But it was only a couple of hours. He was staring at the blank document, erasing the words he wrote in the morning and only leaving the title:

_ Dear Evan Hansen, _

His phone vibrated in his pocket, taking him out of his trance. He didn’t even check the caller ID, the only person that called him was…

“Hey, sweetie.” His mother had said the second they connected. “I just wanted to call to…” She grew quiet. “Well, the hospital has been having a lot of budget cuts.”

“Oh, really?” Evan said. His mind jumped to things that his mother could say next. She got laid off, she had to pick up more hours, she got transferred to another hospital, she, she, she-- _ What about me? _

“I wanted to show that I was a team player, so I picked up some extra shifts.” She finally answered. “I won’t be able to pick you up at school, but--”

“I’ll take the bus. Don’t worry.” Evan couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice. He felt the world seep back into a fish bowl. Everything was grey and hope was lost. 

“I love you, Ev. You know that, right? I wish we could spend more time together.”

“You’re busy. It’s okay, really.” He took a breath to calm himself. He heard his heartbeat in his ears. 

“Dr. Shirman wants to see a letter today. Have you finished it?” Maybe that was his mother's way of changing the subject.

“Printing it out right now.” It hurt to laugh, but he tried to laugh. 

“Was it a good day? I hope it was.”

“Great.” Evan answered her so quietly. He could hear some background noise and briefly Heidi talking to someone else.

“Shit, sorry, sweetie, I have to go! I’ll see you tonight. There’s some dumplings in the fridge, you should eat those.”

And then she was gone.

Something broke in Evan, or maybe it was already broken and Evan was just finally piecing it together. 

He recounted his day. Played it over like film as his hands typed away.

No one noticed him, no one wondered how his summer was, or wondered what he did, or asked how he was doing. It was casual conversations, casual jokes. 

_ No one asks people how they _ really _ feel, how their summers  _ really  _ went, because on the off-chance that something is wrong then that person has to deal with a burden.  _

And right now, the burden was the kid with no signatures on his cast, Evan Hansen. The kid who got pushed down for no reason, and couldn’t talk to Zoe.  _ If the day went on without me _ . He thought.  _ Nothing would have changed. _

He took his glasses off, wiping them on his shirt. He didn’t even know if he was crying or not. 

_ Sincerely, your best and most dearest friend,  _

_ Me _

 

He printed the paper and waited. Wondering if he could skip out on his session. He was thinking of excuses, and entering a floating state of mind, when he was brought back by a small voice. “So,”

Evan turned, putting his glasses on and seeing Connor there. 

“What happened to your arm?” Connor finished. He was quieter now--Cautious, even though they were the only two people in the computer lab. His voice sounded strained, yet also worried. This was the first time Evan actually got to take in Connor.

He looked scrawny under all the black and grey layers. The air outside still smelled of summer, yet here Connor was, dressing like it was fall or winter. Evan wondered if Connor and him were the same height. The combat boots he wore added a few inches. 

“Oh. I, uh, I fell out of a tree.” Evan answered, trying to hide any hint of tears in his voice. Connor stepped forward, gently, as if taking in every word that Evan said and trying to come up with the best response.

“You fell out of a tree?” He repeated. When he smiled, it was crooked. “Well,” Evan could hear it in his voice. The low vibrato of laugh steadily rising from Connor’s throat. “That is just, the saddest fucking thing, I have ever heard. Oh my god.” 

He tried to hide the chuckle, wiping the smirk off his face. Evan noticed the black nail polish on Connors fingers, chipped in places and sloppy on one hand. He glanced at Connor’s other hand to see the neater side. 

Evan thought he heard Connor say something, like a whisper of an apology.

_ Why would he apologize for laughing? Everyone has laughed at my arm all day.  _

“Yeah, well… It happens.” Was all Evan could really say as Connor looked back at him. The small glint of tears in his eyes.

_ Did my story make him cry from holding in a laugh? _

Connor sniffled, he tucked some loose strands of hair behind his ear. “No ones sighed you cast.” He muttered, and then looked at the floor, and then at Evan. His lips parted, but no words came out. Then finally, “I’ll sign it.”

Evan wanted to protest, but Connor asked for a sharpie and suddenly Evan found himself giving the black sharpie to him.

The air had always been awkward, but it grew even more as Connor tugged Evan’s arm up. The movement caused him to retract a bit, a shot of pain charged through his arm. Evan let out a small, pitiful breath.

Connor noticed, letting go of his hand. Evan could only give him a smile, hoping to get it across that he was fine. They locked eyes.

Connor Murphy’s eyes were a steely blue. The kind of blue that people would mistake as grey, or green. It reminded Evan of a lake. That’s what Connor’s eyes were, a lake. In the corner of his right eye, though, there was a speck of brown. 

_ Maybe it’s a dock.  _

Connor capped the sharpie and handed it back. Evan blinked looking down at his cast.

Connor’s name took up the whole side. Big, capital letters. C-O-N-N-O-R.

“Oh, thanks.” The bewilderment outshone the small instance of joy Evan was feeling.

“Yeah well… now, we can both pretend that we have friends, so...” Connor gave him a crooked smile, before reaching in his bag.

_ Does he know I don’t have friends? Does he actually not have friends? _

A part of Evan, deep down, wanted to believe that. Pretend that he had a friend. It sounded so simple.

“Hey, so, is this yours?” Connor nearly shoved the paper in Evan’s face. “It says, uh… Dear Evan Hansen, that’s--That’s you right?”

“Well yeah, but it’s not that big of--”

Connor looked at the paper. Glanced at one line. “‘Because there’s Zoe’?” 

_ Did I actually write that in? _

Connor looked around at the empty computer lab. “It was on the printer.” He said slowly. “You wrote this so I would find it.” 

“Wha--No!” Another misunderstanding.

“You knew we were the only people here, so you wrote this and wanted me to find it, so I would see you’re writing creepy shit about my  _ sister!” _

“Wha--”

“--And then you’d go around and tell everyone that  _ I’m crazy! _ ”

He tried to sound angry, Evan could tell. He seemed to be trying so hard, but it was written in his eyes, and dripping on the words he spoke. This wasn’t anger, this was hurt. Betrayal. 

“I wouldn’t do--” Evan reached for the letter, but Connor took large steps back and turned around. “--Please, I really need that back!!”

As the door shut, Connor shouted out a single “FUCK YOU!”

Evan tried to catch up to him, but when he got out of the computer lab, Connor turned the corner and was gone.

Evan felt his chest tighten, he looked at the name on his cast. His mind screamed at him to follow, but his legs were frozen. Connor’s voice was banging inside his skull. 

The last thing he had said to Evan, sounded as if he couldn’t hold back his tears.

Funnily enough, neither could Evan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for enjoying it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Next chapter is going to be a long one.
> 
> \--Skquill


	3. All We See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the letter out of his hands, Evan finds himself in even more of a panic. 
> 
> When the letter falls into his hand again, it's different. 
> 
> and it causes his world to shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one.
> 
> I forgot. it was friday over here. 
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and it sets in motion what I want the POVs to be like.

“Are you actually crying right now?” Jared’s voice rang through the computer screen.

“No, I just…” Evan moved his hands from his face, and started to pick at the loose strands of his shirt. “Connor took my letter, I don’t know what to do, and it’s been three days. He hasn’t been in school…” As Evan spoke his voice got weaker. He couldn’t see Jared’s face, just his hands. The quick tapping of a keyboard meant he was busy with something else. Evan had called him on a whim, unsure of what to do. Jared had propped his phone on something, and the angle cropped out his face. 

_ Wonder if that was intentional... _

“God damn it... “ Jared muttered, the creak of his desktop chair squeaked as he sat back. The tapping stopped. He let out an annoyed sigh. “A letter to yourself? Seriously, dude, what the crap does that even mean?”

“It was an… An assignment.” The words were clogged up in Evan’s throat, he didn’t want to think about the letter, but his body had other plans: cry, call Jared, make sure not to cry when in the call with Jared, fail at that, have him make fun of you… It was a habit that never seemed to end.

“Was it a sex thing?” Jared asked, crossing his arms.

“No, it--”

“--If it wasn’t, then why are you talking to me about it?”

_ Did you want me to talk about sex?  _ “You’re my… you’re the only one I could talk to.”

Jared was silent for a moment.

“You’re my… only family-friend.”

“ _ Jesus. _ ” Was all Jared said, a cackle rising in his throat. “Well, if I was Connor Murphy, meaning, if I was bat-shit out of my mind, I’d think about how to use this as blackmail.”

Evan froze, an arctic blast suddenly on him. 

“Do-do you really think he’d do that?”

“I mean, I would.”

“Wha--” Evan squeaked.

“Okay, dude, seriously, stop crying.” Jared’s face appeared in the shot, he was wearing a headset, a microphone perched on one of the ear pieces. He went back on topic. “Connor Murphy threw a printer in the second grade, all that’s happened between then and now is that he’s gotten more crazy! He’s  _ totally  _ going to ruin your life with that letter, dude.”

_ This was an awful idea.  _

What could Connor do with the letter? Evan imagined walking in and seeing the whole school covered in copies of his letter. The letter that was meant for Dr. Sherman. Now everyone would see how Evan was feeling. Everyone would laugh and take pictures of the letter and get Zoe involved someway.

_ Wait… _

The thought of Connor showing Zoe the letter made his stomach flip. Jared’s voice could be heard, along with the tapping of the keyboard, but Evan felt his body lock up. If Zoe saw it, maybe she’d be too embarrassed to come to school…

_ What if I caused her to skip school? What if she transfers to another school, her family moves and I never get to see her again. _

“I have to get that letter back…” Evan whispered.

“Just go up to Connor and say ‘hey, I’ll give you a blowjob if you give me my letter.”

“Is that all you think about!?” Evan ended the call at that, Jared was in the mist of laughing at his jokes. He stared at his computer screen for another moment, watching the updates of his fellow classmates pour in on Twitter. Nothing about Connor, or the letter. “Maybe this is a good thing.” He whispered to the empty bedroom. He said it as a way to boost his morale, but all it seemed to do was twist his guts into a bigger knot.

 

***

 

He was warming up the dumplings that night. Curled up on the floor, dressed as if about to go to bed. His stomach finally calmed down around ten at night. Repeating over and over that the silence was a good thing. When the microwave dinged, the image of the letter scattered around school surfaced in Evans head again. 

The knot came back, and Evan found himself in the bathroom at a quick rate. Kneeling over the toilet, glasses clutched in his hand. But nothing came. Dry heaves at the thought of his life falling apart.

_ Nothing came from nothing. _

The dumplings didn’t even have a taste, the box said pork flavored, but Evan didn’t taste that. It was like eating cardboard. 

 

***

 

The first Friday of the school year used to be a fun time. A kick off the rest of the year, all the students were still happy to be here, to feel the summer sun bask into the quiet classrooms. 

Evan didn’t feel like that. The pain in his gut, and the weight on his shoulders had lingered from last night. He didn’t feel his sneakers touch the tiled floors as he walked the halls, or heard the teachers voice as they gave their lectures. He was waiting, waiting to get stopped by a grey cloud, named Connor Murphy, in the hall. But nothing happened.

_ He’s going to unleash it when I least expect it.  _

Walking into physical education, underdressed for whatever the class was doing, Evan started toward the gym teacher. He got half way there, the words already getting choked in his throat, when the PA went on.

“Can Evan Hansen come to the principal's office,” It wasn’t a question, it sounded almost like a demand. “Mr. Howard has something to discuss with him.”

_ This is it.  _ Evan thought as he heard his classmates start to snicker and already come up with a story. Their quiet ‘ohhhs’ were banging against his head. He moved his legs, surprisingly. They felt like jelly as he went back to his locker, grabbed his bag. His mind kept drifting back to Connor’s shocked face from the other day. His feet drifted as his mind went through the last interactions he had with the guy.  _ He’s going to be in the office. He’s going to have my note. He probably read it to everyone in the office by now, Zoe laughed at it, which is why she’s not in school.  _

Connor’s voice, when Evan ran into him on the first day of school, both times, Connor sounded scared. He laughed though. Small and hidden. 

Evan entered Mr. Howard's office, and saw two people there already. A man with salt and pepper hair, wearing pleated pants and a business casual suit. A woman with ginger hair that barely touched her shoulders; an array of stones tied together around her neck, she looked like someone you’d see power walking. But there was something about the pair that set Evan off.

“Uh, Mr. Howard wanted to see me?” Evan turned, looking at the plack on the door, then the plack on the desk. They both said this was the office of Mr. Howard. “I can come back if yo--”

“Mr. Howard,” The man said, his voice sounding numb, and also something that Evan couldn’t place. Lost? Mad? Confused? Just from those two words. He continued. “Isn’t coming… He stepped out. He wanted to give us some privacy.” The man gestured to the empty chair.

“Oh.” Evan spoke, his legs moved and he found himself sitting in the chair, it was a swivel. Resisting the urge to wade back and forth, resisting the urge to wipe his palms on his pants, Evan looked up at the man, as he stood up, hands in his pockets. The man looked at the woman, she wasn’t facing either of them. She sat in the corner of the room. If it wasn’t for her white sweater that was lying on her purse, Evan would have forgotten she was there entirely. 

“We’re… uh, we’re Connor’s parents.” The man said.

_ Oh. _

The world crashed. Evan just stared at the carpet. Waiting for the sky to fall, waiting, waiting, waiting....

The woman, Connor’s mother, took out a piece of paper that looked worn and like it had been through the washing machine too many times. She held it in her hands, thumb tracing the folded paper where the crease were. 

“Honey,” The man, Connor’s father spoke. “Why don’t you go ahead and…”

“I’m going as fast as I can…” Those were her first words, soft and slow, and worn in, and tired. 

Evan heard Connor’s father remark about miscommunication. Evan identified that the woman was handing him the piece of paper. She looked on the verge of collapse. Her hand lingered as Evan took it, and opened it. She seemed to not want to let it go. “We found this on Connor, he… we think he meant for you to have it.”

Evan didn’t have to open the letter to know what was written in ink.

A title, a sentence starter.  _ Dear Evan Hansen…. _

“We didn’t know Connor had a--well we just never heard your name, is all.” The man said, stepping forward. “But your name is right here.” 

_ Don’t remind me.  _

“ _ Evan Hansen _ . That’s you.”

“He gave this to you?” That was all Evan could get out at the moment. “Wh--” Again, the words were choking him. 

Connor’s parents continued, his father did most of the talking. “We didn’t know you two were friends.”

_ Neither did I.  _

Evan felt tears sting his eyes. He blinked, to get them away. Connor’s voice appeared in his head. His words muddled and lost to the haze of high school.

“Connor never talked about his friends.” the man continued. “Then we find this letter and, well, it suggests that you two… or, Connor thought you two were… friends.” 

The way he forced out that last word, that phrase. Evan was sick of it. He wanted to leave, to get up and go. But his legs weren’t working.

“I don’t… I think you’re mistaken--I don’t know wh-” Evan couldn’t speak, his heart was racing, he felt the small vibration of his shaking hands. “Why would… Why would he write something like this?”

Connor never had to see a therapist, Connor never had to take drugs to fix his sick brain, Connor didn’t have to write pep talks every  _ fucking  _ day. Connor didn’t write this.  _ Connor didn’t write this.  _ Evan couldn’t get the words out.  _ Connor didn’t _ \---

“Connor, he tried to take his own life.” The man, Connor’s father, said. He had no emotion in his voice when he spoke. The woman, Connor’s mother started to cry. Evan noticed how red her eyes were. She’d been doing this all day. 

The sky collapsed, and the man continued. Evan felt like he couldn’t breath, like all air was instantly taken out of his lungs and out of the room. “This was on him, this letter was on Connor when we found him.”

Evan tried to speak. Tried to reach and gasp for air. What came out was a small sob. He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes. He didn’t want to cry again because of Connor, he didn’t want to cry in front of his parents of all people. People who he barely knew, and who barely knew him. 

Connor’s father’s words were bombs. “The letter is addressed to you, he wanted to explain…” He gestured with his hand. “...to explain why he was like this. Why he thought this… It says it,” he pointed, “right there--”

_ I know what it says, damn it. _

“‘I wish that everything was different. I wish I could be a part of something.’”

_ Stop. _

“‘Or that anything I say mattered to--’”

“Please, Larry!” The mother nearly shouted. “Stop it, please…” She went back to crying.

_ ‘Connor didn’t write this.’ Say it. SAY IT. _

They fought. The parents fought.

The father, Mr. Murphy spoke up. “Cynthia, I don’t see why this is causing you such distress!”

“We could have lost him! We can still lose him!” The mother, Mrs. Murphy said. “This is all we have of him till he wakes up…  _ if  _ he wakes up, Larry!”

The oxygen returned, Evan took a gulp and with shaking hands he grabbed his backpack. But he still couldn’t move.The sweat was pooling in his cast. 

“Cynthia, please calm down.” Mr. Murphy said, he put a hand on her, and she stepped back, rejecting it. Her red, swollen eyes moved to Evan. Her mind registering that this wasn’t in the privacy of their home. An argument had erupted, and Evan was the one person to see it happen. She took a shaky breath, as if she was able to breathe again.

“Larry… look.” A few stray tears fell down her cheeks and embedded themselves in the carpet. “His cast. I-It says…”

Evan heard a sob get released from her. He looked down at his cast, as if just realizing it himself. He’d seen it, but disregarded it till now. Blocking out how it happened and why it happened, and the explosion that happened after it.

Connor’s name, written in big, all-caps, black sharpie.

“You really are… You’re his friend.”

 

***

_ ‘Now we can pretend that we both have friends.’ That’s what I said to him. I didn’t think he’d take it seriously… I guess I wanted it to happen, a part of me wanted, wondered, if it could happen. _

***

“Oh, you.  _ Are. FUCKED.” _ Jared said that night. “Completely, and utterly fucked!”

“They invited me to have dinner… at their place.” Evan mumbled.

Even though Jared was rude, and kind of self-centered, Evan did feel better from talking to him. 

“Well if you messed up that bad when they saw you, at least now you have a bigger audience to see you stammer through a conversation.” 

Evan couldn’t help but recall how hopeful Mrs. Murphy looked when she saw the cast. It was like she could breathe again. It had brought with it a flicker of hope, and it just made Evan feel even worse.

“I’m going to have to cancel on them… I don’t want to break their hearts. Plus… Zoe will be there.” He didn’t want to see Zoe, for once in his life. Since she hasn’t been in school, he missed seeing small glimpses of her, but now the thought of her sitting next to him at a table made him freeze. 

“What if you did go, though?” Jared’s voice was different now. Quieter, as if he didn’t have any jokes to say. Like he was actually thinking for once. 

“Jared, why would I go!”

“If you can’t speak, you can just nod or shake your head, and all you’d have to say is ‘that’s true’ or ‘you couldn’t be more wrong.’ Plus, you kinda own it to the Murphys because you did lie to them. You basically perjured yourself.”  

“I thought that was like, for court…” 

“Well…” Jared paused. “You were kind of in a court, the principal's office. So yeah, you perjured yourself.”

“I don’t think…  _ No. _ ” Was all Evan could answer with, dumbfounded by the conversation. He took a breath and tried to scrape together what Jared had said before going on this tangent. “Will nodding and giving short answers really work?”

“Absolutely! That’s how I talk to my folks all the time, they never ask for details.”

Evan was silent. He tried to picture himself at the Murphy’s table. “I still feel awful about it.” He spoke up. “They want some reassurance that their son is okay, and I’m about to trudge all over that.”

“You said he was in a coma?” Jared asked. Evan nodded. “Then, the worst thing that can happen is you tell them the truth, and they move on.”

The image of Mrs. Murphy kept repeating in Evans head. Her voice, ripped apart by fear, trying to cling to a misunderstanding. Evan’s eyes focused on the hard cast.

“Ev?” Jared’s voice was small, If they weren’t on a video call, Evan would have missed it entirely. Jared rarely used that nickname. 

“I’ll go.” Evan decided. “To the dinner… I’ll go, and clear things up and wish them well.” The name on his cast seemed to get larger the more Evan stared at it.

Jared hesitated, then spoke again, and was back in his usual tone. “The Murphy’s have money. I’m sure Connor Murphy will be okay, as sad as that sounds because I feel like him not in our lives a blessing.”

“You shouldn’t say stuff like that, Jared.” Evan muttered. 

The call ended, and Evan sat back in his chair. He took a breath, looking at the name on his cast. Connor Murphy did have his moments of outbursts, but as Evan raddled through his brain to recall any good things Connor had done, he just found himself back in the principal's office. Cynthia’s voice repeating over and over again.

_ You really are… You’re his friend. _

  
  


***

 

The suffocating feeling of standing in the Murphy’s house set in before Evan could put one sneaker into the door. The house was beige and white on the outside. It looked like a regular house. White walls, red roof, a long driveway.

_ What am I getting myself into… _

Evan was dressed casual. He didn’t think that the dinner would be too fancy.  _ Besides… I'm just going in, telling them the truth and leaving. _

He knocked on the door and saw that his hand was shaking. “I’m not even hungry…” He muttered, as if rehearsing a script. “I just wanted to come by and tell you that I’m not hungry, and Connor and I weren’t friends…” 

That’s all he had to say. 

Cynthia Murphy opened the door. She had plastered on a smile, even though her eyes were as red as her hair. “Evan!” The way she said his name made Evan hesitate. “It’s so good to see you, please come in.”

He did just that. Rekindling how she said his name, it was sweet, caring, like she had thrown a blanket on him and handed him some hot chocolate… 

It was  _ love.  _ Unconditional love. The love that he felt was absent just as much emotionally as it was physically from his mother. He tried recalling the last time she had said his name with that same emotion. He couldn’t remember.

_ And I’m about to break her. _

Evan stood in the foyer a moment, looking at the coat rack, how it was stuffed with coats from all different seasons. A large wooden staircase rose to the second floor, out of Evan’s sights. He could see scuff marks on the light wood, black lines from shoes. There were family photos scattered around the sky blue walls, disappearing up the stairs as well. From what Evan could make out, it was a mix of old polaroid pictures from when Zoe and Connor were kids, and now; Clearer photos, but the smiles looked artificial. 

There were no butlers in the house, but there was a liquor cart in the kitchen. On it was vodka, scotch, red and white wines, a rosé one too. It was to the side, near the table, but you’d have to get up to pour a glass. It was classy. 

Larry Murphy had a small glass, the amber color was tainting the large ice cubes in the glass. 

“H...hello…” Evan mutter as he got closer to the table. A chicken dish was in a red pan. There was a lemon sauce it was soaked in. Larry didn’t respond, he just took a sip of his drink. And sat down at the table. Evan sat down at the head of the table, opposite of Mr. Murphy. 

“This looks amazing, Mrs. Murphy.” Evan spoke the truth. He hadn’t had a home cooked meal in months, maybe years. Solitude brought out the need for a family sit down.  _ This is way better than leftover pizza.  _

“Oh,  _ please… _ ” Mrs. Murphy waved a hand as she sat down, her face red from embarrassment. “Some friends of the family brought it over, the Harris’--And Evan, you can just call me Cynthia.”

Guilt started to squeeze at Evan’s windpipes. Cynthia Murphy came off as a caring mother, and Evan didn’t think Connor came from such a caring woman. Even if he was adopted, Connor could still have absorbed the amount of cars she radiated. Evan glanced at Mr. Murphy, his brow was furrowed, but his expression was unreadable. Almost like there was no expression at all. Numb. 

_ Maybe the alcohol is a coping thing. _ Evan had tried alcohol before, he was with Jared and they were fourteen. The bitter, burning feeling was hard to mask, regardless of what they tried and what they ate or drank. The sensation still remained. 

“What are you doing here?” Zoe broke through his thoughts, she was standing in the doorway, as if debating sitting down. 

“Oh… Uh, well--” Evan stammered as his ears grew red. He drank some water. 

“We invited him.” Cynthia explained, glancing at Larry. He still was expressionless, Evan could sense anger in his brow. Lines on his forehead gave it away, stressed and mad. Those were the emotions. “ _ I  _ wanted to see if Evan could… talk about Connor. Since the two of them were friends.”

Zoe raised an eyebrow. But she stepped closer. “They were?”

Evan drank more water. His eyes wandered around the room. A bowl of fresh fruit was on the kitchen counter, as if it was moved for the meal. 

Zoe leaned against the head of the chair. Her words made Evan nearly choke. “But I saw him push you, on the first day. He pushed you.  _ Hard. _ ”

“He  _ pushed _ you?” Cynthia gasped, as if oblivious that her son had a record of outbursts. Zoe nodded for Evan.

“There’s a reas--” Evan coughed, then took a few breaths. His heart was racing, his ears were ringing. He took off his glasses, cleaning them just to stall for time. “See the thing is… Connor, he, uh… We--See we weren’t--

_ Friends. We weren’t friends. _

Evan swallowed, he looked at the family. “Connor didn’t like us talking at school.” He started.  _ I’m failing Jared’s plan.  _

“W-why not?” Cynthia pushed gently. 

“He… uh… He didn’t want people to know we’re friends because… well, he didn’t want people to think  _ I  _ was…--”

“A nerd.” Zoe put in, she was still standing. Her eyebrow still raised in suspicion.

“Zoe!” Cynthia scowled at her.

“No... No, she’s right…” Evan agreed, he glanced at her, giving her a reassuring smile.  _ I’m on her side.  _

“Does anyone want any more chicken?” Mr. Murphy put in. His voice cleared the air, Evan didn’t notice that he was eating. He was so quiet. His plate was empty. 

“Not hungry.” Zoe answered him.

“Why would Connor think that he had to hide that from people… You’re so sweet.” Cynthia spoke. 

_ I’m not. You barely know me.  _

“Well, Connor wasn’t a good person, so of course he’d keep things from us.” Zoe spoke up. “We checked his emails, though. Didn’t find you in any of them.” She took her fork, and still standing, leaned and grabbed a steamed piece of broccoli and took a bite of it. Even if she wasn’t hungry, eating would be a good thing to do. But Evan’s stomach was in knots, anything he ate would come back out in a matter of minutes. 

“Well, yeah… Because…”

_ We weren’t friends. _

“He had a second account, a secret one. Because he didn’t want people to know…” Evan spoke over the voice in his head. The room was spinning as he dug himself deeper into the hole.

“ _ See _ , Larry?” Cynthia turned to her husband, as he stood up and poured more scotch into the glass. “He knew you would check his emails.”

“Someone  _ had _ to be the bad guy.” He shrugged.  There really was only numbness in his demeanor.

“It’s not like Connor would react to a good guy.” Zoe muttered. If her father was numbness, she was anger. Her lip curled. “I don’t understand why  _ you’re _ acting like Connor was a good person, or like, that he had any good in him!” Zoe raised her voice. It was something that Evan had never heard before. She glanced at him as she said it, and to her mother.

“There were good things!” Cynthia said.

“What were they then? What is so important and good about Connor that we’re going to this length, of--of inviting a stranger to have dinner with us!”

The conversation grew muddled. The atmosphere grew cold. The color drained.

_ Just say that Zoe is right. Just explain that I’m not friends with Connor. Just say that I wish them luck and hope Connor wakes up. That’s it… _

Evan’s eyes drifted to the bowl of apples. His hands were gripping the ends of his tee-shirt to hide how bad they were shaking.The arguing family got more distant. Still loud, and yelling, but their voices were gone. Evan couldn’t hear them. He shut his eyes for a moment.

_ Did Connor have a good side? _

Connor, from what Evan could recall from elementary school was always emotional. Crying over the smallest things. Not tantrums, though he had those… Crying. His tears never seemed to stop. If he was having trouble in class, he’d cry. The hazy memory of Connor crying because his name was moved when he should have been the line leader. Evan recalled a time in middle school, early in the morning everyone had just sat down and started doing practice questions. A few minutes in, and the small whimpers of Connor started to cause everyone to look his way. Desperately wiping tears from his eyes, the teacher had asked him ‘is this school related or something else?’ and just told him to go for a walk. That was the last evan recalled seeing Connor cry. 

_ Was he crying when he took my letter?  _  Evan opened his eyes. He blinked, swallowed, gasped for air before drowning and said--

_ “I remember a lot of good things about Connor!”  _

Silence. The whole room was silent. 

“Like what?” Zoe hissed. She looked at the end of her rope. Evan thought he saw tears forming in her eyes. 

“Well… there was this one time...This one time where we…” He looked at his cast. “It was around May or early June. Almost the end of the school year, we were juniors and Connor wanted to show me this… Apple… Place. He said it meant a lot to him…”

Cynthia breathed color into the room. “He took you to the orchard?”

Evan grabbed onto her words. “Yeah…”

“We used to have picnics there all the time…” Cynthia muttered, her eyes watered. “Remember, Zoe? The Apple Smile Orchard?”

“Ye...yeah… We’d go to that ice cream place on the way.”

“With the homemade hot fudge.” Larry put in. “I thought the orchard closed down.”

This family was broken, but now… Evan took a breath.

“When we got there, uh… the place was empty. The ice cream place was still there though. We--Connor was bummed about it but… We just spent the day there.”

“I forgot about that place.” Zoe said, she pulled her chair out and sat down finally. 

“I guess Connor didn’t!” Cynthia had tears rolling down her face. She was smiling. 

“We’d talk, and just look at the place. Connor showed me around as we talked about… what we wanted to do once school was over. Resighting songs and telling jokes.”

Cynthia perked up. “Did he tell you the one about the duck?”

Evan shook his head

Cynthia continued. “He said this to me, when he was a kid, he said ‘mom, why did the duck cross the road?’” She smiled again, wiping a few tears away. “He said, ‘to prove he wasn’t chicken.’”

Evan chuckled just as she did. “He never… He never told me that one… But he did… uh, later in the day, when the sun was about to set. Connor wondered if we could get a better view of it from one of the trees, he ran toward this tall oak tree, like, 40 feet. And I followed him. We started climbing…” Evan smiled, his eyes stung. “When we saw it, the sun, the-the blue sky. It felt amazing, like we could do anything…” He looked at his cast. “But the branch I was on, it broke. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground.” 

Evan looked at the family, they all had their eyes on him. Cynthia, Zoe and Mr. Murphy. 

“Connor, he came down, right away. My arm had gone numb… He took me to the hospital… and…” Evan raised his cast. The name, their sons name, was on it. Proof that it had happened.

Just not in the way Evan had experienced it.

Cynthia reached out to him. Pulling him into a hug, and muttering as she cried. “Thank you, Evan, thank you, thank you, thank you…” The more she said it, the more Evan felt himself break.

 

***

_ Conscious, yet eyes closed. I didn’t think it was possible.  _

_ But I guess, a lot of shit that’s happened would be possible, when I didn’t want it to be. I’m conscious. I failed. My failure was possible and I hadn’t taken enough pills, and now I was here. Floating. _

_ All I had was my thoughts. Reliving them. Looking over that last day, seeing everything from a second perspective… _

_ The day started early, I started it early. Nightmares woke me up, and I was crying. Gasping for air and trying to grapple with the reality of living. Daybreak was seeping through my window. The glow stars I had placed all around my room as a kid were still visible, giving off a green glow. I’d been having nightmares for a bit, insomnia was hell and it didn’t get better since I stopped taking my meds.  _

I could get high,  _ I thought. But the blowback from that wouldn’t help, if the first day of school was going to be bad, the most I could do is at least come in sober. So instead, I sat in bed crying. Making no noise, just hearing the soft song of birds outside and my tears hitting the comforter I was wrapped up in.  _

_ “This has to stop.” I spoke, as if willing it to become possible. I was tired. I’d been tired for years and no one seemed to really notice. I was sad too. Angry. Feeling too much all the time. I wanted it to be over. I wanted to crawl back into bed and fall into a coma and never wake up, because then I wouldn’t have to deal with all these emotions. _

_ Yet, I never did go back to bed.  _

_ A knock at my door startled me. I wiped my tears as Zoe spoke, her voice already stressed. “Connor wake up!”  _

_ My body moved out of habit. Getting dressed was easy when you just wear your favorite color. The morning routine was easy since I could be on auto-pilot. I was numb by the time I got downstairs. _

_ I found myself sitting at the kitchen table. Mom was rushing around the table, pouring coffee into Dad’s mug as he scrolled through his emails. Zoe playing with the cereal in her bowl. _

_ “I don’t want to go to school today.” I said, giving my mom the best awful smile. She froze. She was wearing sports clothing, as if about to go to yoga. Her ginger hair was in small ponytail. _

_ “Connor,” She already sounded exhausted. “I don’t want to have this discussion now. I’m not allowing you to skip the first day.” _

_ “But I can just go tomorrow!”  _

_ Funny how that happened. _

_ “Connor, Pleas--” Mom sighed, and looked at Dad. “Can you help? Give any feedback?” _

_ “You gotta go to school, Connor.” Dad didn’t even look up from his phone. _

_ “That’s all you’re going to say?” Mom raised an eyebrow. _

_ Dad looked up, finally. “Well, what do you want me to say! Look at him…” I locked eyes with Dad. “He’s not going to listen, look at his eyes. He’s probably high.” _

Not high. Just drained. 

_ “He’s not high!” Mom got my back, even when I didn’t need her to. _

_ “He’s definitely high.” Zoe didn’t look up from her cereal. _

_ “Fuck you, I’m no--” I started. _

_ “Fuck you!” Zoe cut me off. _

_ “No swearing at the table!” Mom shouted over us. _

_ Zoe rolled her eyes. I got up from the table and grabbed my bag. _

_ “Great talk. Thanks mom!” _

_ I loved my mom. I just didn’t know how to say it. _

_ Zoe reached for the milk carton that was on the table as I was leaving. “Mom, Connor finished the almond milk!”  _

_ “Not true, I left you some so you could kill it.” I called from the other room, forcing my boots on and tying them up.  _

_ Zoe zoomed past and up the stairs. “Connor if you’re not ready, I’m leaving without you.” _

_ I took one last look into my bag, since it was the first day all I really had to bring was a notebook and pen. I had three notebooks, and scattered pens and pencils. I was good. _

_ “I can walk.” I suggested when Zoe came down, her bass guitar case slung over one shoulder.  _

_ “You’re probably gonna skip then.” Zoe said and opened the door. I knew she wanted to say something else. Make another comment about drugs, but she didn’t. _

_ We drove in silence. I was huddled in my seat, nodding off to the lull of jazz music and Zoe’s car as it drove.  _

_ I liked getting to school early. What I didn’t like was how loud it would be once everyone arrived. Zoe and I separated once in the building, she went to her friends and I went to the office to get my schedule printed out. As we parted, I saw the cuffs of Zoes jeans. She had a habit of drawing stars on her clothing. I had the habit of drawing stars on my skin. Both in pen. Her, for aesthetic. Me, for a distraction. _

_ I was getting out of the office, when the halls became more lively. Classes hadn’t started, yet I was already tired from the noise. A cascade of voices and greetings. _

_ I looked at my schedule just to occupy myself. English wasn’t till the middle of the day, after lunch. First class was history.  _

_ I recognized a voice in the crowds of people. Shrill, artificial and tired. I didn’t want to look up when I passed her. I didn’t know her well, and from how optimistic she was, I felt she would have just tired me out. I was already exhausted, I didn’t want to jump into a conversation and just get even more drained.  _

_ For as long as I knew, social situations and me didn’t mix. I’d do something, and instantly get marked as the punk, or the cry baby. I had numbed out by the time I reached middle school so no one could recall the early years. It still hurt to hear comments as I walked passed people. _

_ ‘Hey Murphy, it’s still summer. Why you wearing long sleeves?’ _

_ ‘You hiding something?’ _

_ ‘Can’t go a day without getting high?’ _

_ I just ignored people. I stopped caring after a while. Whatever anyone said to be, I didn’t believe. I didn’t think they had anything good to say to me. People thought I was crazy, so I just became that. I wasn’t crazy though.  _

_ A therapist I used to have said it was depression and anxiety, mixed with something borderline-or whatever… It apparently heightened my emotions to always be explosive, or numbed me out entirely. _

_ It was on the tip of my tongue when the worst comment came into earshot. _

_ “Hey Connor, loving the new hair length!” He came from behind. His voice dripping with sarcasm. I had him in some of my classes, Jared was his name. I didn’t turn to face him, I just froze.  _

I wish I had kept walking. 

_ “Very school-shooter chic!” _

_ I had already cried this morning, but I could feel a new wave of tears sting my eyes. I blinked them away the best I could before turning. _

_ Jared’s smile was wide, he laughed. “It was a joke.” The guy next to him was stunned. Both had glasses. _

_ “Oh, yeah, no I’m laughing can’t you tell.” I said, a bit too quick. Truthfully, I just wanted the interaction to be over. _

Don’t let him see me cry. _I thought. “Am I not laughing hard enough, for you?”_ _I stepped closer. Jared Kleinman hesiated, his smile faded. He lost the battle._

_ “You’re such a freak!” He said, before turning and leaving. His friend stayed. Frozen and trying to hide the smirk on his face.  _

_ He and I had english together last year. He never spoke much. Always fiddled with his glasses or his shirt. Evan. That was his name. _

_ I didn’t think he’d be the type to laugh at me.  _

_ “Why are you fucking laughing?”  I whispered.  _

_ “I--I wasn’t laugh--” He heard me. For once, someone heard me. He tried to wipe the smile off his face. _

_ “Stop fucking laughing!” I kept getting louder, I didn’t mean for it. I just couldn’t control what was boiling over in my head. _

_ “I-I’m not!” Evan just stood where he was. Unable to move, frozen with fear. _

Why am I getting so heated? Would other people get this mad at a comment like that? They would… Right?

_ “You think  _ I’m _ the freak?” I got close to him, my head was screaming so many different things I could do.  _

_ “No, I just--” _

_ “I’m not the freak!” My arms were raised, I couldn’t control my actions. I never seemed to be able to control what happened when I got emotional. “You’re the fucking freak!” _

_ A loud crash, my vision blurred. I didn’t notice he had a cast on his arm till he hit the ground. I ran. _

_ That’s all I really did. Running away so my failures couldn’t catch me. _

_ I ran back out the building, contemplated running home. Breathing hard and berating myself for it.  _

_ “He had a cast. He was  _ hurt!  _ Why the fuck did I do that… Why the  _ fuck _ did I do that!!” I cursed at myself.  _

_ Even now, emotions controlled my mind. In the moment, a quote from a book came to mind. It eased me… _

_ I remember one of my old therapists saying that it can be my mantra, my reminder to calm down. _

_ “‘You do things, not because you’re thinking… But because you’re feeling.’” The quote was from Aristotle and Dante. I loved it. “‘Because you’re feeling too much.’” I took a few breaths, stopped my tears, wiped my eyes on my sleeve and walked back into school.  _

I’m going to look for Evan, and I’m going to apologize.  _ I vowed. Stepping back into the school as the warning bell rang. _

_ In retrospect, I’d been doing awful for months. Outburst after outburst, problem after problem. Making amends for one thing propelled me into the possibility of actually getting better. _

_ I’d had been saving pills for a bit. Dealing with the symptoms and the withdrawal and the fall back to where I was before Mom had gotten me appointments with doctors. _

_ She wanted me to get better through drugs. I’d been able to ease the daily pain with drugs, just not with the drugs that came in an orange bottle. _

_ Maybe this was a last stitch effort?  _

_ I was still doing things based on emotions, and Feeling Too Much. I thought I was okay enough to do this one thing. _

_ I wasn’t. I was spiralling, sinking deeper and deeper and this was the only way I could come up with to save myself. _

_ I couldn’t focus in any of my classes, once attendance was done my mind wandered and thought about what to say, how to talk to someone I pushed to the ground in an outburst of emotion.  _

_ Seventh period came around, and I had a free period. I spent it wandering the halls, still on a hopeful high. I could have skipped the rest of the day, but I spent it writing in the journal I packed. Amidst the First Day Notes was a circled phrase: _

What to say to Evan…

_ I wrote down some basic things like ‘apologize’ ‘how's the weather’ ‘what are your classes like?’ Topic starters that I would forget the moment I saw him.  _

_ I walked into the computer lab, because it was always quiet. I could go over ideas in solitude. But I wasn’t alone.  _

_ Standing over one of the computers, he typed vigorously, determined to get the words out. He was wearing a blue polo and khakis.  _

I didn’t notice that when I pushed him. 

_ The scream of a printer started. Evan didn’t move. He took off his glasses and cleaned them. THey didn’t look dirty. I went over to the printer, picking up the piece of paper that was hot off the tray. _

Dear Evan Hansen…

_ The words I had come up with became muddled in my brain. I looked at Evan, who looked lost in thought, staring at the computer screen, as if not hearing the printer at all.  _

_ “So,” I spoke up. Causing him to jolt back into reality, putting his glasses on. He seemed surprised to see me. I think anyone in his situation would be. “What happened to your arm?”  _

_ There was no apology, no topic starter, just my brutal curiosity as I felt my whole body grow hot and felt my fist start to clench around my bag to hide how shaky I felt. Even though I pushed him, this was the first time I got to actually look at Evan. He looked scrawny, his shirt seemed too big and his brown hair was curly, brushed to the side and looking almost like he’d been wearing a hat for too long. Permanent hat hair. _

_ The cast on his arm was blank. _

_ “Oh. I, uh, fell out of a tree.” Evan answered, not meeting my eyes. He coughed, as if clearing his throat. I took a small step forward, he didn’t step back.  _ How does someone fall out of a tree?  _ I thought. But I didn’t really care how. The concept of someone climbing a tree, and falling… It was kind of funny. I tried to keep a straight face. _

_ “You fell out of a tree?” I couldn’t help myself. “Well,” I could hear it crawling up my throat. “That is just, the saddest fucking thing, I have ever heard.” I let my laugh slip out. “Oh my god.” I raised my hand, to hide my face. Feeling my ears go red.  _ Stop laughing. Stop fucking laughing. _ “Sorry…” I mumbled, wiping my grin off my face. I don’t think he heard me. _

_ “Yeah, well… It happens.” Evan said.  _

_ I blinked back the tears in my eyes. THey came from the laugh, but also from something I didn’t have the answer to till now. I felt like I fucked up the conversation. This was supposed to be an apology, but instead here I was, laughing at Evan’s pain. I raised a hand, tucking some strands of hair behind my ear. “No one’s signed your cast.” _

_ The observation was met with silence. My gaze shifted to the floor, sniffed a bit. The words came out before I could stop them. “I’ll sign it.” _

_ Evan stammered out a protest, but my mind was set. Once the sharpie was in my hand, I got too excited, tugged his arm a bit to quick. He let out a sigh of pain, retracting his arm ever so slightly. I muttered an apology. Then touched him gently. The cast was an odd shaped canvas. If no one signed it, I’ll be the first, and my name won’t disappear. _

_ In big black letters, all capitalized.  _

_ “Oh, thanks.” Evan plastered on a smile as he looked at his newly signed cast.  _

_ “Yeah well…” I handed the sharpie back to him. “Now we can both pretend that we have friends, so…” I tried to shrug it off, like it wasn’t that big of a deal. But it was. I gave him a smile, and reached into my bag.  _

_ The moment of peace, and hope was crushed the second I started speaking. “Is this yours? It says, uh, Dear Evan Hansen, tha-that’s you right?” I played dumb. I guess I wanted to hear him say his own name. To bring it into reality that yes, he is Evan Hansen. I always felt like names were important, and the way someone says their name speaks a lot about them.  _

_ I wanted this conversation to last, but I didn’t know where to take it. I wanted to hear him confirm that this was him, that I wasn’t just speaking to a random person. _

_ I wanted to make amends, and I wanted to become something more with him. _

_ I wanted him to see me. I wanted to know why he wrote this and printed it out and why…. _

_ “‘Because there’s Zoe?’” I read it. It stood out from the rest of the words. My sisters name, her name in a random kids letter. “It was on the printer…” I said slowly, my speech was slow but my brain was already running every single alarm.  _ Why would he write this? Why would he address it to himself? Why is my sisters name in it? Why--Why did I sign his cast? Why was I talking to him?!  _ My brain screamed. _

“You wrote this so I would find it.”  _ That’s what I said. That’s what got decoded from my head and spat out.  _

_ Evan tried to speak up. But I couldn’t hear him. All I heard was the ringing in my ears. “You knew we were the only two people in the computer lab, so you wrote this, and printed it out, so I would find it, and see that you wrote some creepy shit about my  _ sister!”  _ I screamed. _

_ A memory resurfaced from last year. Zoe had knocked on my door, asking me if I’d stolen her magazines, the ones with the quizzes in them. She suspected me, because I was already stealing her black nail polish.  _

_ “Wha--” Evan got out. _

_ “--And then you’d go around telling everyone that  _ I’m crazy! _ ” My voice was strained. I felt like crying. I felt like my one chance at getting better was shot down in three words. He didn’t care about me. He never did. No one ever did. _

_ I tried to sound angry, but I could tell Evan wasn’t buying it.  _

_ I took a step back. Evan reached out for the paper.  _

_ He didn’t care about. He never did. He would never want to get to know me.  _

_ My head was a whirlwind, and amidst it all was a declaration.  _

_ “FUCK YOU!” I screamed and bolted out the door. _

_ I felt betrayed. _

_ I felt like everything I wanted to happen blew up in my face. I should have been used to it by now, but I wasn’t. I never would be. _

_ I felt like dying.  _

_ I ran home, the paper crumpled in my bag. I felt the tears streaming down my face, and I felt like dying.  _

_ The summer was spent trying to occupy myself to not think about it, to quiet the noise in my head that made me wake up in the middle of the night and cry. I was done ignoring it now. _

 

_ I took my pills, the ones I’d saved. Downed them all. I went for a walk then.  _

_ Dogs do that, when they’re near death they try to get away from their owners and die alone so the owner doesn’t get sad.  _

_ I didn’t want people to find me. I didn’t want anyone to worry about me. I wanted to stop being a burden, and to stop focusing all my energy into things that would never happen. _

_ I took out the piece of paper that Evan wrote. I was in the woods, at a park. Somewhere. I slumped against a tree, falling down. Reading over Evan’s letter. _

_ I liked the first line. The first line was true. The first line was the last thing I saw before my body went numb and everything went dark. Maybe Evan Hansen and I were alike. Both pathetic in our own ways, too terrified to speak to people we care about; and when we do speak, it comes out wrong… _

_ When I had classes with Evan, he’d hand in a good report, but when having to talk about it, regardless of how much he cared about the topic, he fumbled. Stammering over his words and playing with the stretched out end of his shirt. That was his way of trying to get the word out. _ _   
_ _ My way was trying to say what I mean.  _

Like all my hope is pinned on Zoe. 

_Zoe put these blue streaks in her hair once. She looked_ so _cool._ _What I said to her was ‘I would kill to have your hair.’_

_ She thought that was a threat… Maybe if I did try to talk to her… maybe something would be different. _

 

You and I aren’t so different after all, Evan.

 

_ Maybe--Maybe it will be an amazing week, and an amazing year…. _

 

_ Because I won’t be apart of it anymore. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the teachers I've had that wanted me to put them in a piece of my writing.   
> This probably wasn't what you wanted, but it's these raw moments that stick out to me.
> 
> Thank you for enjoying it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
> 
> \--Skquill


	4. Reinvention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan fulfills a loose promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late addition!! 
> 
> Was very busy.
> 
> It's easy to change if you give it your attention

Jared had this weird smile on his face, his eyebrows were raised and he looked like he was holding in a laugh. Evan noticed, after years of being around Jared, that he had dimples. 

“What?” Evan said after telling Jared the failed night he’d had at the Murphy’s. That’s why Jared was trying to hold in his laughter. “I know, I failed. I was supposed to tell them the truth and also just nod along with what they were saying, but I just got way too caught up in the moment.”

“ _ Did you now?”  _ Jared said, sarcasm dripping off his tongue. 

“They just looked so sad, I didn’t want to break their hearts even more!”

“Oh no, I get that. I’m just utterly in shock at your own stupidity!” 

“Wh--Why?

“With the way you told them, it makes it sound like you and Connor were well…” Jared put both his index fingers together. “More than friends. Secret, gay lovers from the looks of it!”

Evan wanted to protest. To scream how wrong his family-friend was, but even in the quiet of his own home he felt like yelling would be bad. He was talking to Jared through video-chat. Trapping his thoughts in his mouth before they could explode, he swallowed, taking a breath and focused on Jared as he continued his explanation.

“You weren’t supposed to talk in school, you spent large amounts of time with him when no one was around, talked about your hopes and dreams, and a future--Oh, and if you did talk in school, our friend--your  _ boy _ friend--would kick your ass.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Evan said, unsure why.  _ Jared knew the truth. Why would I get so defensive over it.  _

“What else did you fuck up?” Jared crossed his arms, changing the subject when people started to stare at the two of them. They weren’t looking at Jared in particular, instead they were staring at the black marker that was covering Evan’s cast. The school had made an announcement that morning about Connor, during first period. They left out the details, just that he was in the hospital for an unknown amount of time. 

‘If you want to talk with someone the guidance office is open, but please continue through your day like normal.’ The assistant principal said over the intercom. 

Every now and then, Evan would feel someone's gaze on him. Staring at the cast on his arm. 

“I said…” Evan started. “I said that we would exchange secret emails--”

“...Evan,” Jared groaned, leaning back in his chair. Disappointed, but not surprised. “You know,  _ secret emails! _ For sending nudes to each other--”

“They wanted to see the emails.”

“You’ve dug yourself the biggest hole, Hansen!”

_ I know. Next time I see them, I’m telling the truth.  _

Jared sighed, and sat back in his chair. The overhead light made his glasses glare and unable to read his expression. He looked serious when he looked back at Evan. “I can do emails.”

“What…” Evan raised an eyebrow. 

“Emails, fake emails. I can do ‘em.” Jared was serious. He continued as Evan was silent. “Why do you think I was the only junior last year with access to the computer lab during off hours? I have skills, son!”

“I--Isn’t that illegal, though?”

“Only if you get caught.”

_ Oh, my God. He is serious.  _

“I’ll do it for 20 grand.”

“How about 20$.” Bargaining wasn’t Evan’s strong point, and not even his and his mother's bank accounts combined would equal twenty thousand dollars.

“Fine, but you’re a dick.” Jared agreed to it. “After school we can meet and make your weird sex letter into a novel of passio--”

“Who ya talkin’ to?”  

Evan shut his laptop and pushed it aside before his mother stepped into his room. “Jared, just--just Jared!” Evan answered, not meeting his mom’s gaze as she wandered through his room. Fiddling with the hood he had draped on the bed, folding it neatly for him to put away.

“Oh, Jared?” Her confusion turned into a smile. The click of her brain when she recalled who Jared Kleinman was, that was why she smiled. “I always knew you and him would make good friends!” She gave her son an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“Yeah… Well, we’re in the same spanish class.”

“I’m happy that you are--that you’re making friends, sweetie.” She said, all Evan did was give her a smile. “The school called today.” She started. “Saying that a boy is in the hospital.”

Evan felt his breath catch, a chill ran down his spine as the room ticked up a few hundred degrees and his ears rang. “Ye--yeah they made an announcement!!” Evan stammered. “Connor’s family came by the other day and were talking with the principal--” It was half true. The Murphy’s did come, and they did talk with Mr. Howard. It’s what happened after that made Evan panic.

His mother looked around the room, Evan couldn’t read her facial expression. Her hands placed the hoodie at his desk, and she sat down in the wooden chair that was there.  _ Say something.  _ Evan pleaded. He wanted this suffocation to stop.

“Why does your cast say Connor?”

Free falling. The floor dropped and Evan felt like he was falling once again. His eyes slowly looked at the cast. The black marker on a clean cast. His lips quivered as he tried to find words. Truthfully, Evan had forgotten that his cast had said that. 

“It’s a different Connor!!” He blurted. “Not Connor, the kid who’s in the hospital. A-a different Connor.”

His mother exhaled an audible sigh. She was never good with names, did she even know that his name was Connor?

“I’m happy that you’re making friends.” She started. “And it’s tragic that this happened so early in the year.” Would it be any different if it was on a different day? His mother took a breath. 

The exhaled once again.

“Hey when was the last time we had a Taco tuesday?”

“Uh… Years.” Evan relaxed slightly.

“You know, I printed out these essay questions. For colleges.”

Evan’s panic returned. “Oh… Good.” He tried to sound sarcastic.

“I know that college is hard, but honey, going to college is so nice. It’s a fresh start! You get to reinvent yourself, and learn more about yourself. If you want, we could have a Taco Tuesday and go over the questions.”

“Why?” Evan raised an eyebrow.

“Scholarships.” Was all his mother said before her phone went off.

She hissed out a curse as she checked it. “I have to--I just--”

“Go.” Evan said. “You’re busy. Everything is fine.”

He watched his mother exited his room. She paused at the door. “I love you, Evan.”

And then she was gone once more.

  
  


***

 

Jared typed with a vengeance. Evan watched as he opened up windows on the computer and created the set up of an old email.

“Alright. So I can have the date be anything.” He said, wheeling himself away from the monitor.

The two of them were alone in the computer lab. The door was locked for extra security. 

“My job is done.” Jared announced.

“It’s not…” Evan spoke up. “I need help writing the emails. Bouncing off ideas on what to write about.”

“You’re kidding.” Jareds smile disappeared.

Evan was quiet.

“You’re asking me for dating advice!” Jared smile reappeared, and he brought himself back to the computer. He started typing.

“The format has to be like a letter. Starting with ‘dear’, and ending with ‘sincerely, me’” Evan explained.

“That’s so lame and cute. You two are adorable.” Jared went quiet and continued to type. Evan’s eyes wandered to the halls. Even if people couldn’t get in, he still felt like they could get caught. 

“Here. Read this.” Jared tugged at Evan’s sleeve and brought his eyes to the screen.

_ Dear Evan Hansen, _

_ It’s been a while since we’ve talked. I missed your emails. How are you? Things have been crazy, I’ve been all over the place. I  _ **_should_ ** _ tell you that you’ve been on my mind. Late at night, I can’t get you out of my head. You’re all I think about as I get off, moaning your name into my pillow. _

“WHY WOULD YOU WRITE THAT!?” Evan shouted over Jared’s shoulder. Both the teens eyes were glued to the screen. Jared laughed evilly, as Evan pushed him aside and slammed his finger on the backspace.

“ _ Oh, what’s the harm!”  _ Jared spoke through his laughter. “I’m just trying to tell the truth!”

“This isn’t truthful, Jared! There is nothing about that, that’s truthful!”

Jared raised his arm gently, tapping Evan’s arm. “Okay you need to calm down.”

“It need to be perfect, Jared!  _ This…”  _ Evan gestured to the paragraph. “It’s perfect! I need to show that we were friends. That Connor and I were  _ just  _ friends!”

“The way you explained it to Murphys sounded way more _ than friends. _ ” Jared argued, he crossed his legs and arms. A smirk appeared on his lips once more. “There’s nothing wrong with liking dudes, Evan.”

“I know!”

“Do you?” Jared continued to push all of Evan’s buttons. “It’s actually very romantic, this whole…. Story you’re telling. It’s adorable.”

“ _ Jared, he could have died.”  _ Evan muttered, rubbing his eyes more out of frustration then the usual sting of tears.

“And you can now visit him in the hospital with a big bouquet of flowers! Connor Murphy would love that. I would!”

“IS THERE SOMETHING YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT, JARED!” Evan pushed the chair away and started to amend the deleted paragraph. A tug at Evan’s shirt brought Jared back. His hands went to his mouth, as if he was praying.

“‘But I have to tell you’.” Jared read. “‘That life has been  _ hard _ .’”

“What now?” Evan muttered, already hitting the backspace.

“Use a different word, that won’t make me think that you and Connor were dating.” Jared said it gently, as if giving actual advice. Evan typed. “Don’t use ‘bad’ that’s not a good descriptor word.”

The advice made Evan freeze for a moment. It was actual advice. 

_ Jared Kleinman is capable of actually being a smart person.  _

“How about this?” Evan moved aside so Jared could read. “‘Has been rough’.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Jared slowly turned to look at Evan. Evan, in turn, was wiping his glasses on his shirt. 

“Evan,” Jared said finally. “Not only, do you look on the verge of crying… But,” Jared gestured to the line. “This is kinda kinky, yet also kinda adorable, because you’re clueless. Also,  _ ‘drugs’ _ ? Connor Murphy came in smelling like strawberries and weed. Just say pot and get it over with!

“If you think you can do better, be my guest!” Evan moved away. Breathing hard to try to keep his brain from overheating. His face felt hot and he continued switching between wiping his hands on his jeans, to cleaning his glasses on his shirt.

“Are you about to cry?” Jared asked. “Or hyperventilate? Do you need a bag?”

“I’m not hyperventilating, Jared--”

“I Can get you a bag or a water if you wa--”

“I’m not having any trouble breathing, Jared!!” Evan shouted, clutching the ends of his shirt. His eyes clouded with tears, but they were more out of anger than sadness or anxiety. His eyes drifted to the cast on his arm.

“Do you think his home life was good?” Evan started, his breathing calmed as he traced his finger over the dried sharpie.

“Connor Murphy is-- _ was _ bat-shit insane. Any negativity could have been the cause of him. Plus he was a stoner, so I’m sure there were fights about that.”

“He didn’t die, you know.” Evan spoke, not realizing he had till Jared looked at him. Jared eyes caused Evan to deflate. “He’s in a coma, s-so… he’s not dead.”

“Do you want him to be?” Jared asked. The room grew cold.

“N-no! Why--why would you say something like that!” Evan’s voice squeaked, he felt like he was back at the Murphys. Sitting between them all and telling them what they wanted to hear.

Jared didn’t answer, he just went back to typing. 

“You’re going a long way to make him seem like a good person.” Jared muttered, moving aside so Evan could read. 

Evan typed the ending of the letter. 

_ Sincerely, me _

“That’s gay.”

“Shut up. Now we have to write a letter for myself.”

Jared groaned. “Do that on your own time!!!”

“Do you want the 20 dollars or not!” Evan said, continuing to create his own letter.

Jared watched the entire time, making small comments at every sentence.

“Why would Connor like pics of the trees? Sending pics of the trees, on a secret email accounts screams peen pics.” 

Evan ignored him.

“ _ ‘Forest experitize’!  _ No!” 

Evan continued to type, ending his letter

 

_ You’re turning around, I can see it. _

 

_ Sincerely, Me. _

 

_ (hey that kinda rhymed.) _

 

“Evan.” Jared said.

“What now…” Evan answered, already tired of being in Jared’s presence. 

“You’re such a loser.” Jared chuckled.

_ Thanks, Jared.  _ Evan kept his mouth shut, and exhaled.

 

Jared started to type the next letter. 

 

_ By the way! By sister’s hot, so i can def get you and her to hook up! She loooooves loser-y guys asdbg.irbfz/gjdbvzdfxb _

 

Evan slammed his hands on the keys, getting between Jared. “WHAT THE HELL!!” His anger escaped, causing Jared to fall over laughing as tears spilled from Evan’s eyes.

***

Mrs. Murphy traced her shaking hands over the emails, as if wanting to feel each letter separately. Her face looked sunken, exhausted from the days of silence of not seeing her son. The house was less quiet even as Evan took a seat away from the mother. He tried to imagine what the house would sound like  _ with  _ Connor. Would it have been like Jared said, chaos all because of him? Or would it have been as quiet as it was now. Soft sighs filled the air as Ms. Murphy continued reading.

“I’d forgotten what his laugh sounded like.” She muttered, shifting to another page of emails. “He rarely seemed to laugh as he got older…” Her fingers went back to touching each word. Taking in the volume of it all. Ingraining it into her memory. 

“He and I would laugh all the time.” Evan lied. “Connor could defuse a lot of situations by smiling, just by smiling.” Evan thought back to the computer lab, how Connor released a small chuckle and then covered it up as if it was only a sigh.

Mrs. Murphy did the same thing. 

“How is he?” Evan felt a small weight on his shoulders when he asked. It had been over a week, no word on Connors condition came out. 

“Still sleeping.” the mother answered. She said it with a soft hope in her voice that crushed Evan. 

The two sat in silence for another moment, the mother looking at the emails and Evan watching her react to the lies on the page. Jareds words kept reverberating in his head. “Connor--” Evan paused, collecting his words to try once again to lie to this heartbroken mother. “He, uh, he wrote in the emails that he wanted to spend time with you all again. We talked about that, when--when we went to the orchard.”

Mrs. Murphy smiled, she lowered the papers. Her eyes looked less sunken, she looked less heartbroken. “You know,” she started. “I’m so happy that Connor has someone like you in his life. You really helped him get through hard times.”

The front door closed, rather hard. The tap of sneakers hitting the tiled foyer floor rang through the quiet house. “I’m home!” Zoe called, her steps were weighted down by the bass guitar she carried. Entering the living room with the instrument and confusion on her face. “What are you doing here?” Her eyebrow was raised, and her voice sounded angry.

“Oh, uh.. Well--” Evan stammered, he pointed to the emails as a crutch.

“How was school?” Zoe’s mother asked. 

“Wonderful.” Zoe sounded tired as she rolled her eyes. “Everyone treats me different because by brother is in the hospital, I’m just a walking charity case.” She pointed to Evan. “And what’s he doing here?”

Evan was frozen. Unable to speak, getting noticed by Zoe was one thing. But getting her angry was a completely new, and awful experience. The room seemed to grow cold. “Evan was showing me the emails that he and Connor would write.” Mrs. Murphy explained.

“Yeah.” Was all Evan could say. His heart was in his ears. 

“Is that all?” Zoe looked at him, at the cast, and at the printed letters.

“I should…” Evan started to put on his backpack. “I’m just going to go.” He hurried passed Zoe and through the door. 

Breathing in the lingering summer air as the weight of his actions piled more and more on his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been very busy, so forgive me if writing seems to slow. I started posting this when I had a good backlog of chapters, but because of my schedule that has reached its end.  
> Nonetheless, I'm so SO happy to see you all loving this fic!!! It makes my day!!
> 
> Thank you for enjoying reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!
> 
> \--Skquill


	5. You Are Still Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe's POV
> 
> She recounts memories and tries to face the lies she's told herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so busy, but finding time to update this story is always nice!!

_Zoe started playing bass as a kid. We used to watch cartoons together and there was one with a vampire who played bass. I recall that whenever she would practice, as a warm-up she’d play the first few chords. Sings the first little melody._

_Through the walls, I’d be able to faintly hear her plucking it away. If I liked the sound, I’d exit my room and sit by her closed door. Her voice, her guitar plucking and the familiar tunes always helped me calm down. On occasion, I’d hear muttered lines from long forgotten family lullabies about kingdoms, and light._

 

***

 

“You should read these… they’re really helpful.” Mom said as she cleared dinner, the large stack of emails was sitting in the living room. 

“I don’t want to.” Zoe said, she couldn’t meet her mother’s eyes as she picked at the remaining veggies on her plate. “We don’t have to do this, you know?”

“Do what?” Dad got up, he went over to the stack, scanning them. Zoe heard the ice in his scotch rattle as he took a sip. He’d been drinking more than usual, but his speech and mannerisms didn’t make it obvious. 

“ _This_ . This whole ‘let’s invite a stranger to our house because he probably got high with Connor’ deal! It’s stupid.” Zoe tensed up, as if waiting for her older brother to retort. But the house was quiet, and whatever Connor would have said disappeared from her mind. Zoe got up and brought her plate over to the sink. “Just because Connor isn’t screaming about how he wants to kill me, _doesn’t_ mean we can act like the fucking _Brady Bunch._ ” She stomped off, speeding passed Dad as he gathered some emails and placing them in her direction. She grabbed them, stomped up the stairs, and crumpled them as her sneakers left dirt on the polished wood. 

Connor’s door was ajar. On his nightstand was a notebook, a few pens and the small rainbow flag peeking out of the star covered pencil holder. With a slam, Zoe was alone in her room.

“This whole thing… is just stupid.” She muttered, tossing the crumpled wads into her trash can. Quiet filled the room as solitude overtook the house. Zoe slide off her shoes and fell on her bed as her brain echoed the noise she caused moments ago. Connor never made that much noise. He was always quiet…

_Connor was a bad person._

He took Zoe’s nail polish at first. But then asked every other time.

_He was a bad person._

He only yelled, or raised his voice when something really irritated him. 

_He pushed his so-called ‘best friend’ over. Bad person._

“He’s a bad person.” Zoe muttered as memories kept flooding in, pushing her under as she struggled to breath. Her hands curled around the sheets of her bed. It wasn’t made. Connor always made his bed.

When the darkness got too much, she sat up, opened her eyes, and reached for the notebook on her nightstand. Brushing off the bread crumbs from late night trips to the kitchen, Zoe opened it.

From downstairs, she could faintly hear her parents conversing. Her mother’s hopeful, yet tired voice mixing with her father’s tired and emotionless monotone. 

“---He never wakes up, huh? What then?” Zoe automatically pictured her father holding the small glass of scotch.

“I don’t…” Her mother was either finishing up pre-washing the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. Connor always thought that a pre-wash at the Murphy house is as good as an actual hand washed dishes. The dishwasher is just here to give heavy-duty support. He’d whisper it to Zoe when they were kids. When they were a little more open and a little less wise

“Exactly! Everything that’s in his room is useless, we’d have to sell it all.” The thought of the bedroom across from her being vacant. It’s hollowness grabbed at Zoe and crushed her chest. She stopped going in Connors room around the time he started isolating himself, but the overall image of it was always in her head.

The glow in the dark stars that were placed all over, they would fall. As if finally burning out and dying. Connor wasn’t even dead, and the thought of him gone made Zoe’s eyes stings. Nostalgia was a curious thing. Memories kept pouring in, filtered over with the warmth of the sun and smiles that were genuine. Zoe didn’t realize she was crying till her tears hit the pages.

There was no writing on the page, just her shaking hands and stained tears. 

She repeated the lie, over and over. “Connor is a bad person.” And with each repeat a kinder memory surfaced, with the intent to not prove her wrong, but instead to show what’s really there.

During her freshman year of high school, Zoe got blue streaks in her hair. She recalled coming home and announcing it. Connor looked up, he was on the couch, a book in his lap. His hair was starting to grow out. He looked at her with his mismatched eyes, a straight face, and said ‘I’d kill to have hair like that. Can I have yours?’

Zoe rewrote it to fit her narrative, to mold her brother into the toxic storm cloud she wanted him to be--A reminder of what _not_ to become. 

Zoe got off her bed, wiped her tears, and went to the waste-paper basket. She sat against the wall, smoothing out the printed papers and mending her mistake.

Zoe had written her brother off to be a bomb, ready to go off at any moment. But in reality…

***

_I learned once, from a therapist, that things aren’t black and white. Everything is grey. I remember laughing when I heard that. When my therapist asked why I was laughing, I said ‘It’s just that… grey’s my favorite color.’_

 

***

...The reality was that the emails were a rollercoaster of ups and downs. Connor switching from feeling good to feeling bad. Having good days, having bad days. With Evan being there, always, to help him on any kind of day. Even when Connor didn’t want help, even when Connor felt like nothing could be done.

A floor below, the bickering parents finally settled. The heavy steps of her father were met with a loud sigh, and an announcement. “I’m going to bed.”

As the door to her parents room closed, Zoe released a held breath as she flipped to another page. There was no mention of drugs, just pot. Which made sense. But Connor’s friend didn’t seem to smoke, unless his frequent ramblings about trees were code for weed…

Connor’s friend, Evan, he seemed to always believe in her brother. Where she had tossed Connor to the side, rewrote his life in her head, this Evan guy saw Connor and allowed him to be himself. 

There was something gentle and reassuring about Evan’s replies. Unconditional hope and fondness. Zoe recalled when Evan can over, how he fidgeted left and right, choking out his words as she interrogated him. There was a deeper reason, there had to be a deeper reason…

“Why would someone care so much about a person?” She muttered as she flipped to the last page. Mom must have snuck it in, photocopied and added it to the pile of letters. The creases of the crumpled up paper came off as dark grey boxes. It was the most recent one. The last note that Connor wrote.

_Dear Evan Hansen,_

_It turns out, this wasn’t an amazing day after all. This isn’t going to be an amazing week or an amazing year. Because.... Why would it be?_

 

The question floated in the air. Imprinting itself onto Zoes walls, and burning into her memory. Her hands gripped at the sides of the page. Zoe continued, because deep down she hoped that things would turn out okay. Even though she knew what happened… 

Deep down she wished that maybe everyone _would_ be okay.

 

_Oh I know. Because there’s Zoe. And all my hope is pinned on Zoe. Who I don’t even know and who doesn’t know me._

 

Connor was her brother. Zoe was his sister… They were siblings, living across the hall from each other. Yet, as time went on, complete strangers.

 

_But maybe if I did. Maybe if I could just talk to her. Then maybe… Maybe nothing would be different at all._

 

Zoe rewound her memory to the first day of school. Their interactions were brief, small in the grand scheme. Barely noticeable in retrospect. A breakfast table argument, turned accusation. A drive to school that ensured Connor be present on the first day. Physically, Zoe was there. But maybe Connor wasn’t looking for physicality, he was looking for emotionally. His world was darkening, and she had pushed him away to sink deeper. 

 

_I wish that everything was different. I wish that I was a part of… something. I wish that anything I said… mattered, to anyone. I mean, face it: would anybody even notice if I disappeared tomorrow?_

 

“Why did I do that?” Zoe muttered into the empty room. “W-why did I shut him out?” She rewrote his kind knocks and soft questions to be loud bangs and harsh screams. “He-he was sick…” Physically, fine. Mentally, though? Connor had a storm in his eyes, a cloud of greys and blues and red. He was calling out so many times, and no one even looked at him. 

He’d slam the door after dinner, then amend it and say sorry. He had moments of light, and Evan saw those moments. And these emails were proof. When did _she_ stop seeing the good in her brother? Was it over the one time he took her nail polish, the blue streaks, the accusations that she would spill on the floor and wait for him to pick up? It went beyond sibling rivalry, it went beyond a cautionary tale. 

She put the papers down, went to her guitar, and picked up her notebook once again. The faint melody of old lullabies about kingdoms and light played in her head. 

 _‘When the king falls, the kingdom forever weeps… All the lit candles to remember.._ ’ She tried to gather what she recalled from the lullabies her mother would sing. She played a few chords, nodding her head to keep a tempo. 

“ _When the villain falls, the kingdom never weeps… No one lights a candle to remember… No, no one mourns it all, when they lay you down to sleep…”_ She sang as she recalled her childhood. “ _I will sing no requiem, tonight.”_

Requiems were meant for the dead, and Connor is alive. She rewrote the lullaby and wiped her tears.

***

_I’d sit by her door and listen to her play. She wrote songs that no one would be able to hear but her. I would close my eyes and recall the books Mom would read to us. I like to think that Zoe knew I was listening in. I also like to believe that if she did know, she didn’t think it was a threat._

_I can’t hurt people. Not physically at least. A shove to the ground is all I can muster... I can only hurt myself._

 

***

Zoe sat on the steps the next morning, a quiet Saturday, as her father left for work and her mother was getting ready for yoga.

“I read the emails.” Zoe announced as her head fell into her hands. The tips of her worn out converse tapping the wood. 

“They’re wonderful, right?” Her mother gave her a smile as she stepped passed her. Her mother seemed more alive as if hope had been restored because of the words on the pages. 

“I don’t trust that Evan guy, but…” Zoe felt oddly childish as she said it. “I want to know what Connor meant when he said he didn’t know me.” She felt childish because they were siblings, she _should_ have known about Connor, she _should_ have spent more time with her brother.

“Evan is sweet,” Her mother said, lacing up her exercise shoes. “I’m just relieved that Connor had him in his life.”

“The emails make it seem like they were dating.” Zoe voiced, not realizing she said it till her mother looked at her oddly. Her ginger brows furrowed slightly, head tilted as if registering. 

“ _Maybe.”_ Her mother took a breath, “they were… If Connor had a boyfriend--or girlfriend… he was good at hiding it.” 

Zoe opened her mouth, about to speak about the flag in Connors room. the only splash of color in the grey and muted toned room. 

“ _Maybe…_ ” Zoe repeated the same phrase, hissing out a breath that held with it an air of sarcasm, yet understanding. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for enjoying reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it!!
> 
> \--SKQuill


	6. Left Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan is invited, once again, to the Murphys. In Connor's room he is able to put things in perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love trying out new ways to have conversations in stories.
> 
> Thank you for waiting, thank you for understanding. Enjoy the chapter.

**Beckford @ Senior Year! (@ABeck) Sent you a message.**

 

The message came like clockwork. Right at 3pm as Evan got home, his phone lit up with the notification. Evan started up the stairs, opening Twitter and seeing what was said to him. Over the last few days, Evan had gained an influx of followers, he’d get notifications every once in awhile someone asking about Connor. He never answered them though.

So why was this message from Beck different? Evan barely talked to anyone in school and now here was another person asking him about his fake best friend.

He opened the message, feeling some semblance of happiness because:  _ HEY! Someone wants to talk to me! _

**Beckford @ Senior Year!:** Hey Evan!! How is everything? I hope you’re well…

**Evan:** oh. 

No one ever asked Evan how he was. 

**Beckford @ Senior Year!:** Oh?

**Evan:** sorry, I was spac---

_ If there’s one thing to learn from Jared, it’s to not say everything that goes on in your head. _

**Evan:** I was just caught off guard that you’d message me. That’s all.

**Evan:** I’m fine. Thank you.

**Beckford @ Senior Year!:** But; You’re really not right? Like this whole thing with Connor must hurt. 

In truth, there was pain about what has happened with Connor, but it’s not scary in the way the world thinks. It was a weight that kept growing everyday, a thought that was always in the back of Evan’s mind since he said the two of them were friends. It did hurt, just not in the way everyone thought it would.

**Evan:** It’s hard at times, sure. But I kind of just cling onto the fact that he could wake up at any moment. That’s a good hope to have.

**Beckford @ Senior Year:** Nods nods

**Beckford @ Senior Year:** Everyone has been talking about how brave you’ve been these past weeks. I’m inspired that you seem to wear that cast on your arm as a trophy. Jared has been going on and on about you two, how you and Connor are best friends!

**Evan:** Has Jared been saying that? I didn’t thinkhe cared. You seem to care though, were you friends with Connor as well?

As Evan clicked send, he felt a cold sweat walk over him. He was in the safety of this room, but he felt caged in. This a chance to be found out, a chance to relieve himself of this burden, or since further and further.

**Beckford @ Senior Year!:** I had him as my chem partner one year. He told a lot of funny jokes! You know, I feel like I always knew you two were best friends… You were really great at hiding it, but deep down, I feel like I knew it.

His hands shook, Becks words were a special kind of grenade. She’d thrown the bombs, but the bombs never went off. They beeped and beeped, red flag after red flag.

_ Does she want something from me?  _ Evan scratched his head, recalling what he knew of Beck. Honors student, takes a lot of AP courses, overly friendly... If she knew Connor, knew a part of him, maybe Evan could use that in some form. His hands weighed down the keys on his phone. Causing a sea of ‘F’s to take over the text box. Catching himself, he deleted the letters, taking in what Beck said and tossing it back at her. The same way he did with the Murphys.

**Evan:** Yeah… He’s really funny.

 

“Who ya talkin’ to?” His mother's voice rang through his thoughts once more. She stood in his doorway, her hand about to knock on the door. She had a tired smile on.

“A friend--Jared. It’s just Jared.” Evan replied, turning his phone off and tossing it to the side. He gave his mother a smile, but his heart broke a bit.

“I’m so,  _ so  _ happy that you’re putting yourself out there, Ev!” She dashed in, going to his bed where he sat and squeezing him. “I have to go to work now, but hey, if you keep being amazing we should celebrate.”

“It’s Tuesday.” Evan voiced. He didn’t let the hurt that crushed his chest drip onto his words. “You and I were going to have tacos and go over those essay questions…”

Realization hit her face first, her eyes widened, her smile wavered. Her hug felt suffocating, and when she let go Evan wanted that affection back. It’s been a while since his mother looked so proud of him. “ _ Shit. _ ” She cursed. “I’m so, so sorry Evan… It completely slipped my mind.”

_ It always does.  _ “It’s okay… Go to work.” Evan swallowed the truth. 

“Are you sure? I can call in, or--or how about…” His mother pondered, giving him a smile as she sought out a compromise. “Why don’t you look at the essay questions yourself tonight and you can email me to talk about it. That works toward your strengths. You’re an  _ amazing  _ writer after all. I’m sure I’d just slow you down!” 

“I’ll do that… You go now. Have a good night at work.” Evan looked at his phone, Beck was still messaging him. 

“Are you sure? Again, I can always stay in…”

They both sounded defeated in their own way. 

“Go.” Evan finished. “I’ll make myself something.”

  
  


***

 

The door was left ajar, so Evan went in. He expected Connors room to be a hurricane of clothes, books, old pill bottles... 

A new guilt filled his chest and crushed his shoulders. The room was spotless, the only mess being the bookshelf, it was small and overflowing with novels ranging from old children's books, to series that Evan never heard of.

“Evan!!” Mrs. Murphy called from downstairs. “Dinner will be ready in a moment.” He could hear her smile, it floated in the air, delighted by the company. “I hope you're hungry!”

One side of Connors wall full of photos. None of them framed, all take on a polaroid. They showcased a lot of natural light and shadows, the ripples of water, the spark of a flame, the exhale of smoke. The walls were a smokey grey color, teetering on the verge of white. The carpet was a navy blue, like a dark ocean or night sky.

Connor’s bed was against the wall, cornered on both sides by dark nightstands. A backing that shelved even more books. Notebooks this time, along with mason jars full of pens, and pencils. Evan rested his hand on the dark green covers. He pictured Connor here.

_ What would he do in this room?  _ The room looked lived in, yet completely bare, all at the same time. Maybe a bedroom wasn’t completed until the person stepped in. There were two stuffed animals on the side of the bed, two characters from old stories Evan vaguely remembered. He reached for them, feeling the plush against his fingers, and feeling the calmness they brought.

_ Eeyore and Moomin.  _ Evan recalled the two characters from different franchises. It was odd to imagine Connor enjoying them enough to still collect plush them, both in good condition, as if they were bought recently.  _ Before the incident, maybe? _

Even thinking of what Connor did as ‘an incident’ seemed rude, but what could Evan call it? An attempt was too literal, too serious. The teenagers eyes drifted to his cast, and how his fall was an accident, an incident that he quickly swept under the rug. Connor being hospital was more of an event than anything else. The letters that Evan gave the Murphys were just fodder for event. A collection of letters saying their son was alright, a collection of plushies to say their son had a heart, and a spotless room to show that their son cared. 

_ Connor could be a good person.  _ The thought echoed around the room. Evan got up from the bed, did another sweep of the room and frozen when he saw Zoe standing in the door frame.

“What are you doing here?” He said, rather loud. His body tensed, unable to move since his only exit was the door Zoe stood guard at.

“I live here.” She responded, rather coolly. One eyebrow raised as if assessing Evan. 

“R--right, yeah.. I-I know but…” Evan stammered. He went for his glasses once he felt his hands again. “You’re just--You’re never here when I’m here so!” He rubbed his glasses clean, put them back on and noticed his heart rate still hadn’t gone down. It banged in his ear like a drum.

“I know,” Zoe said, she took a step forward, entering her brothers room. She was wearing overalls, with the pant leg folded up. A storm of ink black stars littered the cuffs and the tips of her shoes. “Connor would say that in his letters to you. Plus, you said that when you came here for  _ first  _ came here for dinner.” She paced around her brothers room, Evan couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She spun on her heel as she turned. “This is what… the third night in a row you’ve come?”

“My mom works late.” Evan choked out the truth. “She doesn’t mind.” 

_ She doesn’t mind because you don’t tell her.  _

“Still, that’s weird. Does your mom night feed you?” Zoe stopped, she crossed her arms. Under her overalls, she wore a plain pink shirt. A star shaped pin was in her hair, keeping the hair from her brown eyes.

“We just have pizza most nights. It’s a nice change of pace… eating here.”

“So you’re mooching off of us because you don’t want to eat pizza?” There was a deep sarcasm in Zoe’s voice, it was devoid of emotion, her eyebrow still arched. But Evan knew that there had to be a punchline somewhere. “I’d love to eat pizza more often…” Zoe finally muttered.

Evan laughed. Small, and quick; a chuckle that brought him back to the first day of school. “Wow, it’s really… uh, you must really hate your moms cooking that much if you want pizza, but if your mom is always cooking meals. Guess you’ve never been poor, then.” Evan was going off an a tangent, Zoe didn’t stop him. Her gaze, her attention, it both terrified and excited the teenager. “My mom is always saying that it’s better to be rich than poor.”

“Well I guess you’re mom’s never been rich.” Zoe put her arms down, casual and relaxed on her hips.

“And you’ve probably never been poor.”

Evan’s words hung in the air. Both teenagers were silent, Zoe’s lips were curled into...something. A frown? A smile? Evan couldn’t read her. While took in a shaky breath. “ _ OhmyGod, Iamsosorry _ \--” He stammered out his words, speaking too quick for his brain to catch. “I didn’t---I didn’t mean to be so rude,I just--I’mnever rude, like ever--- I just--” Tears stung his eyes.

Zoe giggled. Zoe Murphy  _ giggled.  _ It was small, quiet, and unapologetic. It stopped the world. “No,” She smiled. “Continue, I liked that! Keep roasting my rich family.”

Evan smiled, he blinked back the sting of tears. He laughed as well. “Sorry.” Was all he said

“I didn’t think you had the capacity to be rude…” Zoe had a smile on her face, it lingered. “I was impressed, apologizing just ruins it.”

“...Sorry…” Evan repeated.

“Seriously, stop apologizing.”

He nodded.

And then silence, Evan’s fingers tapped on his jeans. His eyes drifted to the books that were in the shelf behind Connors bed. A collection of children's books that spanned to middle school.  _ Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, Aristotle and Dante, The Little Prince…  _ Anything to get his mind off a certain five letter word. 

“You want to say it again, don’t you?” He didn’t look at Zoe as she said.

“Very much so, yes.” He stammered, moving his eyes back to her. She released another chuckle.

“You’re weird.” She said. “I can see why Connor would like you.”

“Yeah… well…” Evan went quiet. He’d created the lie for this family, yet right now, it felt real. There was something about the way Zoe had said  _ Connor would like you _ that felt right. As if this lie was reality, and reality was kind.

“Hey, what did he mean?” Suddenly, Zoe’s voice was quiet, unsure. “In the letter. The-the last one.” She crossed her arms again, she’d been keeping her eyes on Evan the whole time, but now her gaze averted to the polaroid pictures. “ _ Because there’s Zoe. And all my hope is pinned on Zoe. Who I don’t even know and who doesn’t know me’.”  _ She recalled, as if she memorized those few lines.

_ She read it. She read my letter.  _ Evan’s heart twisted, his throat closed up. Guilt overcame, and he wasn't quiet. “Oh… Well… I think he--” Evan couldn’t find words. There wasn’t anything he could say. His heart was poured out on that letter, and now Zoe read it. 

He heard Connor’s voice, all the way from back then. ‘ _ So you could say some creepy shit about my sister!’  _

“Never mind. You clearly don’t know either…” Zoe sighed, defeated. They both were. Zoe started to move toward the door. 

“He wanted to be closer to you.” Evan said, stopping her. “He wished that you could be closer… lIke when you were kids.” He caught her. Evan managed to stop Zoe and speak on the same ground. He took a breath. “He and I, we’d talk about you… Mainly just about how Connor wished you two could be closer.”

She turned. Her face was unreadable, but she looked at Evan. It was the first time he noticed how tired she was. Dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was a bit frazzled. 

“You would talk about me?” She sounded on the verge of tears, crumbling and near her breaking point. 

“He really… uh…” Evan gathered what he knew about Zoe. He’d been to a couple of her jazz concerts, she plucked her guitar along with the music. Eyes closed and feeling the music. A smile curling on her lips during moments. “He liked how when you’d play in jazz--He liked how you’d get overcome by the music. Almost like you were sleeping the entire day, and finally waking up.” Evan explained.

“He went to my concerts?” She was sceptical, but engaged.

“Yeah--and, and he liked that when you play, you looked like you were telling a secret. He-he thought that you were awesome.”

She still looked unconvinced. “He thought I was  _ awesome _ ? My brother?”

Evan dug deeper. “Definitely!”

“In what way?”

“He liked your smile, when we’d hang out he always said that his smile would never be as great as yours. How it was perfect, how it’s always been perfect.” Evan took a breath to steady himself.  _ Just talk about her.  _ “He said that, you never really knew how wonderful your smile could make people feel.” It was like diving into a pool, easy to think about, easy to execute, but once you were in the water the gravity changed. Everything felt heavy and words were hard.

Evan looked at her storm of black in on her overalls. “He liked how you’d draw stars on your jeans when you’d get bored.” Evan had seen her do it a couple of times, usually before classes became. She’d sketch stars on her clothing and then the next day it would be gone.

“Did he tell you why I do that?” Zoe spoke softly. When Evan shook his head, she continued. “See, he  _ always  _ loved stars. He loves how they form, and how they die.” She motioned with her head the glow-in-the-dark stars on his walls. “He said… that people were like stars.” She scoffed. “Never explained why though.”

‘Yeah… He wasn’t really good at talking to people.” Evan tried a laugh. He imagined the iconic scene he had spun for the Murphys. Connor and him at the orchard, laying on a blanket, and talking about family. “He wanted to say all this to your face, he just couldn’t find a way to actually do it.”

Zoe, moved to sit on her brothers bed. She leaned in, wanting to know more. Evan cracked a smile, and joined her on the bed. “He liked how you would still do those quizzes in magazines.”

She smiled. “I stopped doing them when one of them got stolen at school. I thought Connor did it.”

“You thought he took it?”

“Y-yeah. To make fun of me later… But when I yelled at him about it he had no clue what I was talking about.” The memory made her laugh, yet it caused Evan to pause. He’d recalled last year seeing Zoe carrying a magazine with her one day at school. She still had braces on her teeth and the magazine fell off of her books when she wasn't looking. In the crowd of students, Evan saw it, grabbed it off the ground and tried to find Zoe to give it back. But he ended up keeping it, never finding Zoe again that day. 

With nothing to say about the thievery, Evan changed the topic. “He liked when you put those blue streaks in your hair!”

“He did?!” Zoe beamed, surprised and happy.

“OH. Yeah! He-he thought you looked real pre--pretty  _ cool! _ ” Evan stammered. “Like I said… He just… he just couldn’t say the right words to express it.” 

“I lived across from him. He could have slipped me a note, or a text. Instead he acted like we were a million worlds apart.”

Evan tried to laugh. “He felt the same way.” He said. “Connor also felt like that wouldn’t be enough. He wanted…” Bravado was taking over. A sense to comfort the girl he loved, yet also tell her what she needed to hear. “He wanted to say that he loved you.”

Zoe was taken aback from Evans words, her lips parted as she repeated the last phrase. Her eyes looked watery. She blinked, tears started to form.

_ I made her cry.  _ Evan hesitated; this was the first, genuine conversation that he’d had with Zoe Murphy, and he caused her to cry. He wanted to comfort her, to hold her. Guilt rose in his chest at image his brained cooked up. Of Evan leaning in, wiping her tears and letting his hand linger there--Just for a moment, before pressing his lips to hers.

_ I want to kiss her.  _ He thought, chiding himself over and over again at the thought. 

“I miss him.” Zoe’s voice broke through his guilt, broke through Evans mind and brought him back to reality. They were sitting on Connors bed, in Connors room, about to sit down for dinner. “Don’t you?” her voice was a whisper, a plea.

Evan’s words stuck to his throat. 

Zoe was still crying, it was silent. She took deep breaths to steady herself, holding herself together. She didn’t need Evan there, and a part of him wanted her to  _ need _ him. 

He’d felt like an anchor for this family, this was the first bought of doubt.

His fingers wrapped around Connor’s sheets, bracing himself. Zoe did need him, she needed him to answer.

“Yeah… I miss him.” He said. It was all he could say. 

 

***

_ I miss my family. I miss Zoe’s guitar plucking, I miss mom's cooking, I miss dads heavy footsteps… I miss them. _

***

The house was quiet, there needed to me noise. 

“Wh--” Jared nearly shouted after Evan told him the story. “WAIT.” It was around 9pm. “He-hewwo!?”

“Jared… please. Quiet.” Evan pleaded.

“YOU.  _ YOU.  _ Evan Marcus Hansen!” 

“Don’t bring my middle name into this!!” Evan tried to talk quieter even though he was the only one home. His mother wouldn’t be around for another two hours.

“You were mere inches from kissing Zoe Murphy!” Jared kept getting louder.  _ This wasn’t the type of noise I had in mind…  _ “On her brother’s bed!” Jared continued. “AFTER HE  _ DIED.” _

“He didn’t die, Jared!!” Evan tried to match his volume. “Quit saying he’s dead!!”

“No, the sadder the news the more popular my brand gets better!” Jared argued.

“Wait… what?” Evan looked at the monitor of his computer, it glowed in the dark light of night. Showcasing Jared in his regular outfit of a graphic tee-shirt, button up and shorts. But there was something different, a small detail that clung to his loose button up shirt.

A button with Connor’s face on it, he looked younger. His hair was shorter, not grown in and touching his shoulders like it had been on the first day. He wasn’t smiling. In small white text at the bottom of the pin it read: Get Better Connor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jared's twitter handle is ProJaredKleinman.
> 
> I might have to move the release of these chapters to every other friday. (next one would be 26th)   
> I've real busy, and want these chapters to be good.
> 
> Thank you for enjoying reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing!
> 
> \--SKQuill


	7. All You Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan deals with the towering realization that time is passing, and Connor still isn't awake. He tries to come up with something that will make people believe that Connor isn't a lost cause.
> 
>  
> 
> Connor, on the other hand, makes a decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's late, nonetheless it's long and good and I'm happy with it and I love you all for being so patient with it. c':
> 
> Disappear, the song part of it, is my fav song out of the entire recorded album, which is also just my fav album. 
> 
> Thank you to Popurikat on tumblr for your comments, edits and late night chats.

_Was there a cost of waking? Would anything change if I kept silent and kept my eyes closed? For all I know, or for all I care, I could already be dead._

_But I know I’m not._

_I know I’m still in the hospital bed, I’m still asleep. The heart monitor is still beeping with the rhythm of my heart, and my breathing is shallow and requires no help._

_I could hear the nurses and doctors. Their voices sounded different every time. But there was one nurse that caught me off guard. She didn’t enter the room, she was just outside… She was on the phone. Her voice was soft, loving, and she did a good job of hiding all of her stress._

_“Hey honey…” She said. “I just wanted to call and see how you were doing, you’re probably studying so don’t mind me.” She chuckled, then let out a heavy sigh. “There’s a boy here, his name is Connor. He went to your school… I’ve been meaning to ask, Ev…” I could feel the pain in her chest as she tried to form words. “The name on your cast? Is that the same Connor?”_

_I was taken aback, in this dark space, I just felt myself fall. For the first time, I wanted to open my eyes. I wanted to speak._

_I wanted to say ‘I think I know your son.’_

***

“Wh--What’s that you’re wearing?” Evan asked after a moment. 

Jared smirked. “Like it? I’m selling them tomorrow at lunch for a pretty good price.” 

“What?” Evan breathed it out like a sigh.

“Haven’t you see the bracelets people are wearing? Sabrina Patel was selling them during free period, and Matt Holtzer’s mom made those tee-shirts.”

“So, you’re making _money_ off of this?!” Evan felt his stomach flip and curl into knots.

“Yeah.” Jared responded, calmly. He sat back in his chair. “This Connor situation isn’t gonna last, in a few days, people will just forget that he’s in the hospital. People will forget that he _tried_ to kill himself. Plus, his parents are rich, they don’t need the money that we’re making off of this. I’m just stating the facts.” Jared shrugged. “And making a few bucks on the side.”

“That’s terrible…” Evan whispered.

“Whoever said capitalism was clean?” Jared wasn’t helping. “In any case, you did good! You got to spend some time with Zoe Murphy, got to spend time with your fake family--”  
“I wasn’t doing that!” Evan grabbed the sides of his laptop. If the two teens were meeting in person, Evan would have grabbed his shoulders. “I just… The last time I saw Connor, he just looked _so_ scared. And his parents looked so worried… I just wanted to make sure that things would work out, I guess.” Evan exhaled any traces of weight on his shoulders. 

“That’s cute…” jared said, he didn’t smirk, didn’t show any emotion. Just said that and then ended the call. Evan closed his laptop and hugged his knees.

 _Maybe when Connor wakes up, he’ll see how everyone cared about his recovery… Maybe people won’t brush him to the side… Maybe he’ll believe the lie I told._ Evan chuckled at the thought. He imagined Connor, bright eyed and smiling and thanking him. He’d have no trace of anger or fear in his eyes, his arms would be bare and visible. He’d be smiling.

 

***

“I’m _worried._ ” Beck appeared next to Evan as he was collecting his books from his locker. Her voice made him jump and his heart momentarily stop.

He looked at her. She was wearing a grey skirt, a blue blouse, and a navy blazer. Her hair was an avalanche of braids, and her hands were gripping the backpack straps in a choke hold.

“Wh--what’s got you worried?” Evan finally said.

She sighed. “Last week, everyone was talking about Connor, you saw everyone wearing those wristbands, and those buttons. Now, no one is.” Beck seemed crushed by the realization. Evan furrowed his brow. He took a moment to look around at the students passing by. In truth, since Jared started selling the buttons Evan stopped looking at the passing students. Focusing on the tiled floor between each class, or the shoes that everyone wore. He counted how many steps it took for him to get to each of his classes, trying to bury the fact that merchandise and money was getting made due to a tragedy.

But when the week started, he realized there weren’t wristbands or buttons. 

“Like, doesn’t that hurt? People just forgetting your friend like that?” Beck had a way of asking questions that made the nervous teen question his whole being. Her questions were more like accusations, they ripped at Evan and crawled under his skin. 

“W-well… Connor never was into social cliches, he’d be embarrassed that people were wearing stuff with his face and name on it.” Evan responded. _I mean, I would._  

Beck leaned against the lockers. “It’s heartbreaking.” She said. “You should really care more about this, after all, Connor was your best friend!”

“I mean--I know it’s sad, but again--Conn--”

Beck, pushed herself off the lockers, a smile spread across her face. “Maybe you can ask Zoe to get people interested again! She’s been so quiet, I _bet_ she could get everyone interested in Connor’s wellbeing again!”

_How much are you willing to bet?_

“Ala--Beck, I don’t think that’d be a good idea.” Evan muttered. He didn’t want to think of Zoe for once. He didn’t want to think about how the two of them sat in Connors room, her crying and Evan spewing the same lies. He especially didn’t want to think about kissing her. 

“Evan, I can _guarantee_ that if _you_ don’t do something, people are going to forget about Connor. Is that what you want?” Beck didn’t wait for a response, it wouldn’t change anything as Evan was left to be a stuttering mess.

 

***

_Evan Hansen was the last person that saw me. So maybe, he felt the need to clear things up. Maybe he got a new cast after the news broke. Maybe he forgot about me…_

_It hurt just now, thinking about that._

_Being forgotten by people I didn’t even know well. My life wasn’t anything amazing, never did anything worth talking about._

_I kept hearing that one nurse, sending voicemails to Evan. He never picked up. I couldn’t blame him, I could never pick up the phone if someone called me. She sounded sweet though; a hard-working mother._

_My mom sounded just as sweet, but wasn’t as work oriented. Dad was the main breadwinner, he didn’t want us to worry about money. Financial guilt still hit me and Zoe hard, so while she would go shopping for clothes at discount stores, I’d spend my money on books and weed. Mom would get cook books and try her hand at cooking. I’d sit on the counter and watch her, sometimes helps._

_It was mainly when I was a kid. When things seemed a lot more brighter._

_Did she still cook? Evan with me gone? Does she make a plate for me?_

_I missed her cooking._

_I wonder if she misses me._

_Probably._

_Does Evan miss me? Can he even miss me, since he never really_ knew _me? Doubtful. He’s probably going through his days with one less Connor Murphy freakout to care about._

_Zoe is probably still trying to learn Youth by Daughter._

_Dad is probably going through his days calmly. He doesn’t have to butt heads with me anymore._

_I really want to give up, I want my body to just stop. But there’s this growing part that wants to stay. As if I can just ghost reality. Watch the world go by._

_I wanted to go back to the orchard. The one I would go to when I was a kid. Even now, just the thought of a warm sunny day makes me want to smile. Like, maybe just the simple things are all that really matter when it comes to living._

_I should make a choice then… Pretty soon._

 

***

Evan didn’t have the guts to shout her name, his guts were currently strangling his stomach. So he just waved frantically to get Zoe’s attention. She was with a few bandmates, walking down a corridor with instruments. She had a skip to her step, and was carrying the bass guitar over her shoulder.

“What’s up?” She raised an eyebrow, and walked toward Evan. For once, her voice didn’t sound cold. 

“Do you know Alana Beck?” He asked once she was near. 

“Yeah… Why?”

“She--I think because she doesn’t know about how Connor is doing, she’s projecting it onto me, and I don’t know how Connor’s doing, and so I’m just wondering, like, is there anything we can do to make sure he’s okay, and if he’s gonna wake up anytime soon--” He wasn’t breathing. 

“Connor’s okay.” Zoe spoke, her hand brushed against Evan’s shoulder. The few inches that had separated them in height were apparent. Still, Zoe’s touch eased him, stopping his flood of words all at once.

“Oh,” he let out a heavy sigh. “That’s good to know…” The knot in his stomach tightened. A mixture of happiness, relief and heartbreak. “I just wanted to know if there’s something I could do, like-like maybe we could make this into something.” He was being vague because he wanted to swallow whatever was coming up his throat. “Beck said that he should be remembered, that people shouldn’t forget about him.”

Zoe started to walk, adjusting the guitar case on her back before taking a step. Evan followed behind her, fixated on her ink covered red shoes. 

“It would be like, a memorial type thing. But… to promote good mental health, and--and that someone shouldn’t have to go through what Connor did to get the help he needs.” Evan tried to sound like he knew what he was talking about, he picked up his pace to be at Zoe’s side. 

“You know, this isn’t the first time he’s tri--…” Zoe whispered, cutting herself off and taking a deep breath. For a moment, Evan thought he saw the small formation of tears in her eyes. “I think you should do it. It seems like a cool thing… When he wakes up, he’ll realize that…” The words were caught in her throat now. 

“You know how I told you how Connor and I would go to the orchard?” Evan started, his finger went to fiddling with his shirt. 

Zoe nodded. She was walking aimlessly, no destination in mind. 

“He came running. Like, I blinked and there he-there he was.”

He’d thought about this moment too much. Creating the image, and having it shine with detail. How the sun hit Connor through the trees, how the wind tousled his hair and shook the leaves.

“I want people to know that. That there’s always someone there for them.”

  


***

 

_I was standing on a hill, birds chirping. It was vacant of people. Just me, under the shade of a tree, watching the world pass by. The sun was just reaching its peak when a family of four climbed up the summit._

_I recognized the little girl, she smiled wide and had missing teeth. Her hair was held back by insect shaped clips. And one of her overall hooks was slipping off her shoulder._

_The boy, an inch taller, was wearing an orange shirt and some cargo shorts. Dressed as if about to go on a hike. His mismatched eyes sparkling as he called for his mother and father._

_Mom and Dad were younger looking, more at peace. Mom’s hair burned to life in the sun, while Dad still had his salt and pepper hair. He carried a large blanket, wearing a more relaxed business casual outfit. Mom was wearing capris pants and a white blouse, and carried a backpack._

_From the shade of the tree I was under, I just watched them go through their summer day. Zoe was rolling down the hill, running back up and doing it again. Grass sticking in her hair with each trek back. She tugged at the boys arm, asking him to join. He looked content with his book, sitting on the blanket._

_I couldn’t hear the conversations they were having. It came out as muffled noise. I could tell that everyone was happy. The smiles they had on their faces were genuine._

_Zoe disappeared down the hill, and then clouds started to quickly take over the blue sky as if noticing her disappearance. When she appeared once more, she had flowers in her hands. She brought the rain._

_Before she could place the crown of flowers on the boys head, the wind whipped up and blew away the woven pieces of heather and daisy. Her pocket, which was stuffed with daffodils were stolen by the wind as well._

_The rain caused everything to melt. I was safe in the shade, but what I saw was my family, the hill, the sky, the summer… it got washed away like sand prints. Dispersing, and changing, and never being the same again._

  


_“Connor, come on.” Zoe said as the light from the hall seeped into my room from the open door she leaned against. “We’re going to be late for school, and I don’t want to be late.” She wore her annoyance on her sleeve._

_“Go without me. I’ll go tomorrow.” I muttered, nestling deeper into my covers and turning away from my sister._

_“You can’t miss the first day of school!” Zoe argued, though she closed the door. I took a few breaths. My room was chilly. Memory served that I had opened the window last night, and forgot to close it. Even with summer still clinging to things, my room was ready to move to the next season._

_But I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to get up. I didn’t want to go to school._

_Going to school meant interacting. It meant talking to people about how my summer was, what I did, what I learned over the summer, blah blah blah. It didn’t mean anything. It was fake smiles, and fake interest._

_All I did was read books, avoid family, and get high. I’d been saving pills, I’d been bandaging my arms. I’d been doing what I had to do to get through each day. I was surviving, and if I stayed in bed I’d stew in my thoughts and undo my bandages, and take a lot of pills…_

_I got up. A small part of me wanted to show improvement._

_I kept my window open, and closed the door behind me. Everything was a monotone shade._

 

_I wasn’t a social person, but being in the halls of school helped. Instead of worrying about my arms, I could worry about the people walking by and how they gravitate toward Zoe and avoided me. Zoe didn’t even look up from her friends as I walked passed her._

_My eyes had a tendency to wander and my brain had a tendency to zone out. It was easy to block out everyone and everything. Too easy._

_I heard a familiar snarky voice shout my name. I stopped, didn’t turn._

_“You know for someone as openly_ gay _as you, why do you wear so much black?” His voice was loud enough for others to hear him, to make a comment._

_“Jared!” Another voice said, I recognized it. High and dripping with worry. I could picture his hands fiddling with something. His glasses on the bridge of his nose, about to fall off. Hair a short, scraggly mess of brown. “That’s not okay!”_

_I wanted to laugh. He sounded sweet, so I gave him a chance, and I turned to look at him. Just him._

_A split second of color burst into the monotone._

_Evan Hansen. Wearing khakis, sneakers, a blue shirt and a cast on his arm. He slouched, and looked like a worried deer._

_“What?” Jared Kleinman said, his smirk grew. “Not gonna say anything?”_

_“It’s grey, actually.” I said. “I like wearing grey.” I was tired from just saying that. But I continued. “It’s my favorite color.’ Comfort resonated inside me. If I was threatening on the outside, at least I was comfortable on the inside._

_“You’re such a...freak.” Jared said it with hesitation, but the words were genuine._

_The phrase floated in the air, I’d heard it before, it felt like deja vu. A small pang in the back of my mind that I couldn’t recall._

_If I wasn’t so tired, I would have exploded._

_I just took a breath, and walked passed the two of them._

 

_I walked into the nearest door, and found myself in the computer lab._

_It was vacant, time had passed. It was nearly the end of school._

_Evan was there. He was standing over his personal laptop, silent._

_I took a step forward. “Hey, how’d you break your arm?”_

_“I fell.” He said it quickly, as if it was rehearsed. “I was climbing a tree, and… and I fell.”_

_“No one signed your cast.” I noted, getting closer._

_“Yeah, I know.”_

_“I’ll sign it.” I reached out, grabbing his arm. When I started to write my name, the color was off. It was a crimson liquid that seeped into the fabric of the hard cast. It smelt metallic, and all too familiar._

_I stepped back, feeling lightheaded. The sharpie was gone, and my hands were stained with blood._

_“I’m so sorry, I--- I didn--” I looked up, and Evan’s face was blank. I looked down at my arm sleeves and they were heavy._

_Tearing off my hoodie, inspecting the bandages._

_My head was screaming._

I failed. Because I couldn’t keep all my emotions inside.

I failed. Because I even though I went to school, and hide _how_ I felt I still couldn’t get through _one day._

I failed. I couldn’t have a good day, like every fucking therapist and book said I _could_ do.

I failed! I failed Mom, Dad, Zoe… Everyone.

I couldn’t make it through a day without making a scene.

_“Evan…” I pleaded. “Help me…” I felt tears in my eyes._

_He started to fade away, I lunged for him, as if trying to find steady ground. My arm went through him, my whole body did._

_I had a fear of blood. Small cuts were fine, the ones I caused were fine. I could hide them and they’d heal up. But big accidents, where it never seemed to end, that got me._

_I kept crying, feeling around for something that could help me._

_I found myself muttering something so small, I couldn’t even hear what it was. My mind kept going to Evan; always Evan. Why?_

_Did he hurt himself like I did? Did he take pills because his brain was sick? Did he try, so_ so _fucking hard to get noticed and to be someone? Did he try to matter, to anyone?_

_I kept trying to feel around. The scent of blood was getting to me, the loss of it all was getting to me. I wanted to give up, just give up and get it over with._

_That’s why I went to the park that night._

_That’s why I sat under that big oak tree and took in the silence._

_That’s why I didn’t hurt myself that night._

_Like even though I wished to die, I never could go through with it. But this time, this time I did it, right?_

_I won’t be a burden to anyone, I won’t be remarkable because no one will remember me. I won’t have to deal with being a disappointment, and I won’t have to build so much hope only to be crushed._

_I collapsed into the shade of a tree. In the orchard my family would take me to all those years ago. The sun still in the sky. Burning brightly as I lost energy._

_In the distance, I could see Zoe finally placing that hand made flower crown on my head. My family sitting down to have a nice picnic._

_A boy came up to me. Not the me at the picnic, the Me who collapsed in the shade. He smelled like pine trees._

_“Did you hurt yourself too?” He sounded so familiar. His voice was warm, comforting, it made me feel safe. Like he understood what was happening._

_I didn’t respond. I was out of energy._

_“Do you mind if I…” He propped my head up on his leg. It was gentle. Kind of cute. He touched my hand, pulling back my sleeve. “My accident wasn’t as bad as yours.” He said, “but it still hurt. I’m healing up okay, though.”_

_I wanted to laugh. He touched my bandages, and I felt better. It was warm. Inviting._

_“That should do it.” he said, his glasses looked too big. I waited for them to fall off the bridge of his nose. “You can breathe now.”_

_“Thank you.” I muttered, feeling sleepy. I didn’t realize that his hand was lingering near mine. Tempted to interact and touch, but too scared to continue._

_“Do I know you?” I got out, trying to blink away how tired I was. “I feel like I know you…”_

_He laughed again. Leaning back and taking in the sun from the shade, I didn’t even notice till now that his left arm was wrapped in a cast. He opened his mouth to speak..._

 

_***_

“Evan…” Mrs. Murphy breathed, as if releasing a sigh of relief. “This all sounds so wonderful!” She looked down at the pamphlet he had made. Inside was the statement ‘to show that no one should be forgotten’. The front of the pamphlet just had big letters that read _The Connor Project._

“Zoe said that she could get the jazz band to help.” He said took a breathe. “And my _co-_ president, Alana Beck was going to organize a school assembly to get the project going…” 

“That’s wonderful!” Mrs. Murphy touched Evan’s shoulder.

“I didn’t think people cared so much about Connor’s recovery.” Mr. Murphy appeared, stepping into the dining room. He was wearing the same business casual outfit of a button-up, dress pants and loafers.

“They do!” Evan turned to the father. It was partially a lie. Kids cared because they made money off of it. “If more people get involved, we can really start a movement to better other kids that have felt like Connor.”

Mr. Murphy looked distant, sceptical. He almost looked like he was seeing through Evan.

Mrs. Murphy was beaming. “Evan, this is just… _so_ incredible.” She got close to Evan and wrapped her arms around him tightly. Her body shook as if her own weights were getting taken off her back. Evan put his arms around her, hesitant. Cynthia Murphy muttered once again how thankful she was. A waterfall of hope, and healing, and appreciation. 

The teenager smiled. 

“Connor is going to be so happy when he sees this.” Mrs. Murphy muttered. She ended the hug, but held to Evan’s shoulders. Her smile didn’t falter. “To know that you care about him _this_ much--to start a campaign like this…” She looked at her husband for support, for extra words since she was speechless. Mr. Murphy took a few steps forward. Evan turned to him as he felt the father’s hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you....” He said. Just two words.   
_That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?_ Evan looked at Mr. Murphy. His eyes looked sunken, as if he hadn’t been sleeping well. He looked paler, less intimidating. Less cold toward the world, and toward Evan, but also still cautious enough to look powerful.

Mr. Murphy look a breath. Long and shallow. His other hand went to Evan’s other shoulder, gripping the boy to steady himself. “Thank you.” He said again. He closed his eyes as he said it, his face contorting slightly. He swallowed, letting go of Evan and taking a step toward Mrs. Murphy. 

The teenager didn’t know what else to say. He started to gather his things. “Well, I should be going… Beck and I were going to talk and discuss this assembly.” He shouldered his backpack on and started toward the entrance of the house.

“Thank you for coming, Evan. It’s always a pleasure.” Mrs. Murphy said, following Evan to the door. Mr. Murphy followed her, trailing behind her. He looked less pale, more human.

 

***

“Guess what!!” Beck’s voice broke through the crowd, scaring Evan once again and this time caused his textbooks to fall.

“What…” He muttered, gathering his books from the floor as his heart drummed in his ears. Beck leaned herself against the lockers like last time, a wide smile on her face. 

“I got the okay for the assembly. I was also going through Connors social media to look for anything that I can use for the page, and the pamphlet and found some photos that are appropriate.” 

 _That sounds kinda creepy…_ “Great.” Evan said, he was half listening.

“Can I ask you something though?” Beck started, she took out her phone and scrolled through something. She didn’t wait for a response. “How come you’re not in any of these photos?”

“Connor didn’t like people knowing we were friends.” The teenager answered, digging up old lies and made up truths that sounded right to him. “He never even posted on social media, didn’t like it. So there’s probably nothing there anyway.” Evan closed his locker, stepping away from Beck.

“Exactly!” Beck started to trail Evan as he walked the halls. “So, I asked his parents for some!”

The teenager gripped his backpack straps. He pursed his lips and glanced at Beck as she strode to his side. “Why…” He muttered.

“Because the pamphlet you provided was bare, and we have to get people psyched up.” She said it with a smile, but it didn’t help the dagger that was now protruding out of Evan’s back.

“That’s not… You shouldn’t…” Evan started. _Shouldn’t ask Connor’s parents for pictures? Shouldn’t pretend to know this kid who was hospitalized?_ “Are you able to make the pamphlet better?”

“I gave it to Jared to work on, he is secretary, and better at computers than me.”

“Oh… _good.”_ Evan choked out. Beck gave him another smile. She stepped away from him, heading in a different direction.

“I can’t wait to hear your speech, by the way! I said to the principal that you’d speak, and it just makes sense ya’know.”

Beck dropped a bomb, stabbed Evan in the back, and gave him a heart attack all in the span of a few minutes. Evan took out his phone, his hands shaking.

 **Evan:** I HAVE THE WRITE A SPEECH.

 **ProJaredKleinman:** LMAO

 **ProJaredKleinman:** Get fucked, Hansen. I can’t wait to see you crash and burn as you admit your undying love to a dying kid.

 **Evan:** JARED

**ProJaredKleinman: >:3c**

**Evan:** Help me write this speech…

 **ProJaredKleinman:** I want no part in this. Writing gay love letters I can do. Being eth secretary of a club about said dying kid, I can do! Helping you write a speech, where no matter what is written will cause you to piss yourself? Evan, nothing can help you.

Evan turned his phone off.

  


The world grew more monotone, voices became muddled. Evan swallowed the lump in his throat and continued to walk, unable to feel his legs or the floor under him.

 

***

The whole school was there. Sitting down and waiting for Evan. A black and blue striped noose tightened around his neck. _A gift._ Mrs. Murphy had said, handing him the little box. _Because Connor never got invited to any bar mitzvahs growing up. Because he was so excited to go, so excited to wear this tie._

Evan went to the podium. His speech written on flashcards, and shaking in his hands. Before this event, he considered wearing contacts, but now with the sharpness of tears in his eyes, a bit of relief fell on him. _The glasses can hide my inevitable breakdown._

He couldn’t even see his cards. His breathing was sharp, he heard it reverberated back at him through the speakers. “Good morning,” He choked out. “Students and, uh… and faculty… I-I wanted to talk to you today, about… talking to you today my best friend… Connor Murphy.” 

His glasses allowed the pool of tears to not leave his cheeks. He flipped to the next card, even though the first one wasn’t spoken to its full capacity. “See, uh, one day, over the summer… Me and Connor went to this orchard and we were there.. Picking--picking apples and I fell out of the tree. Just straight down.” He flipped to another card. Looking down through blurred vision. “Good morning, students and fa...cul..ty…” 

He released a breath, a hand went to his face lifted up his glasses and wiping the tears. He heard some commotion in the crowd, laughter or muttering. He was shaking, and as he went to find the next card, they spilled onto the floor.

“Sorry--- Sorry…” He repeated. An avalanche of apologizes has he tried to pick up his shattered remains. From the ground, the podium covered the majority of his body. He could hide here. No one would notice him. He bit his lip and heaved out shaking breathes. 

 _No one will notice me. No one has_ ever _noticed me, not enough to care at least._

Students continued to get louder. Ignoring the boy as he suffered, trying to pick himself up. _If I stay here longer, will people just forget about me? They should. They probably will. I just have to stay here and then everyone will forget about me. And in a few days no one will remember this crazy idea, or me, and people will focus on something else._ His hands went to the tie, he didn’t know how to properly tie it. Mrs. Murphy had done it for him.

 _Just run. Just escape and run. You’ve dug yourself a big enough hole, just get out now and never have to live with this again!_ But Evan was frozen. He looked down at the cast, running a hand on it, tracing the cast and up his arm. Recalling the pain that shot through him, recalling the empty feeling he had…

He stood up. His cards were scattered on the ground like leaves. Light poured on him. He faced the podium, and began to speak…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with this fic!!!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it
> 
> \--SKQuill


	8. All is New/Sky Collapsed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan tells the story he's engraved into his head, hoping for it to reach someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They'll take you home.

“Over the summer, around when school was ending...” Evan started. “Connor and I went to this old orchard. The Apple Smile. He’d go there as a kid, and he wanted to take me…” His breathing was shallow. He wiped the tears from his cheeks. “We spent the whole day there. The  _ whole  _ day. We walked the old trails, and sat, and talked. It felt like we were the only people in the whole world.” It was easy to recall. This is what he said during the first dinner at the Murphys. But now, instead of it choking him and feeling like he was being judged. Evan felt whole. “Before the day ended, the sun was setting… It looked so beautiful. We started climbing this big tree, just so we could get a better look. Connor, he said to me ‘keep going. Keep going, till you see the sun’.” A crack in his voice. A visible jerk of his arm as he recalled the moment. “And then I fell…”

The auditorium was silent, waiting to hear what happened after. Grabbing onto the story that Evan was telling. As if none of them knew what happened, how the story actually ended. With a boy feeling so alone he tried to kill himself, and ended up in the hospital.

“I opened my eyes, and I was on the ground. This pain spreading through me, unable to move my arm.” He gestured to his cast. “Connor came down, in an instant. He reached out and helped me up. And that’s when I realized that I wasn’t  _ alone _ . Connor helped me realize that I mattered. That everyone… matters. And that someone will  _ always  _ be there to help you.”

Another inhale, another exhale. Calmness spread through Evan. 

“That’s why I wanted to create the Connor Project. To show Connor, when he gets better, that people are there for him.”

The room surged with cheers, though Evan wasn’t done. He had more to say and he felt he  _ could  _ say them.  “Connor was there for me, when I was at my lowest point, and I want everyone to know that there is always someone there for you. Because--Because when you don’t feel strong, you just have to reach out… and someone will be there to find you. And you’ll be able to see the sun again. You won’t fall this time. You’ll see it. I promise that…”

Evan felt his hands grip the podium for support. His hands were clammy with sweat. The tie around his neck no longer suffocated him. 

“I promise that you will be found.”

He stepped away from the podium, feeling light headed and hot. This time the room exploded into applause. Evan stepped back stage, and all at once he felt the pressure on his back return. He took a breath in, and exhaled a sob. His tears ran down his cheeks, stinging his eyes. Zoe was backstage, no guitar was near her.

“I came for… emotional support.” She stated, she didn’t meet Evan’s tear soaked eyes. 

“Sorry…” Evan voiced, wiping his eyes and clearing his glasses. 

“You must miss him.” Zoe gave him a smile. “My parents said that… Well, the doctors said that Connor was showing signs of movement.” Her smile grew. She looked at Evan now. “He’s going to wake up, and notice how much he matters…” Her voice cracked. Evan felt himself crack as well when Zoe wrapped her around him. It wasn’t gradual like the weight on his shoulders. It was instant, like throwing a rock at a window. The teenager willed his legs not to give out as new guilt crushed his shoulders.

Something Jared said popped into his brain. It was weeks ago. A month maybe, when they were writing letters. Before the trees started to change color, and when summer was still in the air…

  
  


***

 

“Evan!” Beck ran to his locker next monday. Fishing out her phone from her cement block of a backpack. “Look, look look…” Unlocking her phone, and blinding Evan with the brightness, she opened up The Connor Project page.

Thanks to Jared, the page looked less like a cheap business and more like an actual website. Tabs on the site that slide down to more information, a nice background of the forest. 

“The website is done?” He asked.

“No, not that.. Wait… Yeah.. I mean…” Beck took a breath, her excitement deflating. “Look at the followers.” 

A person icon was to the side. Above the person was a large number. Too large. “Are those followers?” Evan glanced at Beck, already feeling the pricking pains of his actions. 

“Yeah, dumb dumb.” Beck laughed. “Jared recorded your speech, and I posted it. It’s been shared so much! It’s so great!! Over the weekend, the site had fifty-six followers. Now it’s nearing 2K!”

_ Everyone can now see me having an anxiety attack. It’s there. On the Web. Unable to get taken down or forgotten. Me. Evan Hansen. Absolutly fucking up life!  _

“Yeah!” Evan forced a smile. “Great. Wonderful…”

The warning bell rang, leaving Evan alone as Beck disappeared down the halls. “By the way!!” She yelled in the sea of students. “I added your email to the website, so you’ll be able to see directly what people are saying.”  

He didn’t want to, but curiosity got the best of him. He took out his own phone, going onto the Connor Project page as he shuffled to class. There were messages people had left for him. Thanking Evan for making this speech… It all didn’t feel real.

 

**_Oh, my God. Everyone needs to see this_ **

 

**_I LEGIT can’t stop watching this video_ **

**_He’s only 17?!_ **

**_THis will take five minutes, but it will make your day!_ **

 

It was a chorus of voices, all joined together. Praising Evan for what he did, for the strength he had to continue giving that speech. 

 

**_Share it with the people you love._ **

**_Re-posting it._ **

**_Share it._ **

**_Talk about it! Not just online, start the discussion!!_ **

 

***

  
  


“Congrats, Hansen.” Jared voiced during lunch. “You did it, you made your boyfriend popular.”

“My phone has been going off all day.” Evan said. He always put his phone on silent, not even a vibration would get through. He’d check his phone after each class, his notifications swarming with email notifications. “People keep sharing the video, and talking about Connor. Wishing him well, and a safe and quick recovery…” Evan listed, muttering into his tasteless sandwich. 

“That would make sense, since there’s like, what? Four thousand, five hundred followers. You could make bank off of this.” Jared smiled. “We could start a company. The Connor Project merch!”

“Jared,” Evan whined. Weak and tired and overwhelmed. “Please stop trying to make money off of this tragedy…”

Jared opened his mouth to speak, as if close to retorting with a curt ‘no’, but he said nothing. He took a sip of his soda, a green mountain dew. “What are you gonna do now?”

“Wait for it to die down… It has to…” 

“What if it doesn’t?” Jared smirked. “What if people dress up as you for halloween?”

Evan ignored Jared, and turned off his phone for the rest of the day. 

  
  
  


He turned it back on when he got home, and regretted it.

Amidst the waterfall of words, were missed calls, voicemails and texts from his mom, he’d gotten used to their content to the point he just didn’t respond.

_ Working late again.  _

The house was quiet, but even inside the emails kept coming. Thank yous, and well wishes and reposts.

He was ready to turn off his phone once more, but paused and scrolled through the messages. He sat up in his bed, reading this one message. It burned into his head. 

**Thank you, Evan Hanson, for giving us a space to remember, and hope, for Connor.**

 

It knocked the air out of his lungs. He could excuse the misspelling of his last name, but he fixated on two words:  _ To remember.  _

That meant people thought Connor wouldn’t make it, it was a cushion for the fall. The reality that the longer he spends asleep, the less likely his chances are. It was dread, it was the thought of the worst happening. To fight so hard, only to fail. But then it continued with the next two words.  _ And hope. _

And this was the thought that he could make it. It was well wishes that also doubled as a death wish. It was wishing for him to wake up, but then tossing him aside once he did. It sounded hollow, and haunting.

Hoping for someone’s recovery, but also planning for their funeral.

Jared’s voice rang in his head again.  _ ‘Do you want him to be?’  _

“Want him what? To be dead? No!” Evan chided himself, speaking to no one. He looked out the window, the leaves were starting to change outside. A mix of greens and sun burned reds and oranges. Halloween was in the next few days.

He recalled what Zoe had said after the speech, he couldn’t pick out the actual words but instead recalled the feeling. That sudden crushing burden that shattered him. 

Connor started to show signs of waking. Movements; muttered words, eyes opening and closing. His heart rate increasing at points, as if screaming how alive he actually was.

_ Or maybe it’s just his body giving it one last go before shutting down completely.  _

Evan took a breath. He swallowed the thought, chasing it down with swears. “Don’t think that.” He muttered. “Don’t think like that.”

He found himself grabbing his backpack, and heading out the door. 

 

***

 

_ I have two nurses. One is the night shift, and the other is the day shift.  _

_ Day shift nurse is female. She talks a lot, all good things. Usually about her family or fun things like taking vacations up in Vermont 'for clean air’. _

_ I call her Gabby, even though I know her name is Nancy. She talks a lot. So, Gabby. _

_ Sometimes, she’d get visits from past patients. Talk to them like they were family. Maybe they were? It was a guy. He had a laugh similar to mine. He walked with crutches. I could hear the smile on his face as he talked about his boyfriend. Hearing how happy Gabby was, and how happy this guy was… It made things easier. _

_ The night nurse is also female. Blonde, worried. Always checking her phone and leaving sweet, soft voicemails. I think I know her son. No, I  _ know  _ I know her son. I pushed him down and then signed his cast. Ya’ know, just friendship building!  _

  
  


***

 

Mrs. Murphy gently placed a mug of hot chocolate in front of Evan. She seemed brighter, happier, as if her own burdens were taken off.

“The hospital called the other day,” She muttered. “Any day now he should wake up.” She sat across from him, her hands wrapped around her own mug of coffee. 

“Thank you, for the tie.” Evan spoke up. He grasped at the mug. It was ceramic, with a dog on it. “And for helping to tie it.” he laughed.

“I’ve been checking out the page you made.” The mother started. “For you kids it must not feel like a big number, since this technology advanced world brings people together. But for me sixteen thousand is a lot.”

Evan didn’t have the heart to interrupt her, he could only offer a smile. The number kept growing, Evan stopped looking. Anytime he talked to people now, if they mentioned the project they also mentioned the number.

“I know I’ve said this to you many times, Evan…” Mrs. Murphy’s hands curled around her mug. “But thank you for this. You’ve been such a big help to us…” 

Evan, though he got used to hearing her voice swell with tears, he never got tired of it. All he needed was to hear that. No more ‘thank yous’. As long as he helped the Murphys, that’s all that mattered.

Evan finally took a sip of the hot chocolate, trying to fill the room with noise. If he concentrated, he could hear Zoe’s voice through the walls as she practiced. 

“She wrote a song based on your speech.” Cynthia said, chuckling. “It’s uplifting, kind… It really brings across the message that your speech has to offer.”

Evan nodded, in truth, he forgot half of the speech he made. Bits and pieces came and went, fragments that lead up to him looking like a fool. He recalled the emotions, but not the words. 

_ There’s a video of my whole speech, people started transcribing it too. Will I recall what I was saying? No.  _ He recalled the pain of Zoe’s hug, how it shattered him. “I don’t know much about comas.” Evan started. “I’ve only heard about them.  Articles say that it’s a miracle if a person wakes up after two months...” He hesitated, swallowing hard and feeling pain rise in his chest. “But Connor’s condition, is that a miracle? I keep getting emails, ranging from hoping for Connor’s recovery to sending prayers for him. But, there’s nothing  _ I _ can do.” Evan started rambling, he averted his gaze and instead looked passed Mrs. Murphy at the bowl of fruit. Fresh apples were in the bowl, green and red stacked together. 

“I think that’s normal.” the mother said. “To hope for something, even when the chances are grim.”

_ There’s a lot of bad in the world, and people want to hold onto something good.  _ The pain in Evan’s chest grew, only due to another recollection of Jared’s words. He stomped out the pain, imagining it as a fire and stomping it out to stop it from spreading. The sun was setting outside. 

“I want people to remember this once it’s over.” Evan muttered. “I don’t want the Connor Project to fade away… Even after Connor wakes up.”

The song Zoe was singing became more clear. 

 

***

 

_ There’s a few things that happened between Mom getting the call, and the clouds greying over, showering the world in rain. _

 

***

 

“I like your song.” Evan said, when he got to the second floor. Zoe’s voice stopped as he started to ascend the stairs. He kept his shoes on, but they didn’t make the scuff marks that the light wood was riddled with. 

Zoe opened her door, and her skeptical look was back. Her brow was furrowed slightly, lips locked and trying to guess what Evan would say next. Her hair was a perfect mess of loose strands. “Thanks,” she said, half laughing. Her hand was still on the door knob, as if she was about to disappear back inside. “I, uh,” a smile crinkled on her lips. “I don’t know how to play guitar!”

_ “What?”  _ Evan’s voice cracked as he said it.

She laughed, low and calm. “I legit… don’t know how to play guitar.”

“But you’re in jazz band…” Evan whispered it. He didn’t know why he whispered it, but he did. 

“Jazz is built on the fact of not knowing how to play an instrument. It’s chaos. I’m trying to write a song…” She opened her door, revealing to Evan for the first time, her room. “And I don’t know how to play guitar.” She walked back in, keeping the door open.

Her room was the polar opposite of Connors. Her bed was messy, with empty plates on the nightstand. Textbooks, notebooks, and music books were all over. Spilling from her bed to the carpeted floor, to her backpack that sat near her closet. Her guitar was on the floor.

“Like, sure. I’m in jazz, but I can’t just be like freaking Mr. LaLaLand, and all like ‘Jazz is life’.” She went over to her guitar and picked it up. “Jazz won’t help me write a song.”

“You could write a jazz song.” Evan voiced as Zoe sat on her bed. Taking the guitar pick that was nestled between the strings and placing it in her mouth. She grabbed a nearby notebook, and began flipping the pages. 

“You can sit.” Zoe said through her teeth.

_ I really… I really can’t.  _ “I’m not gonna be long.” Evan gave her an apologetic smile.

She shrugged, and dog tagged a page that was scribbled in words, doodles and random notes.

She began to play. Her fingers didn’t dance on the strings, she had to pause each time to change the chord and begin playing again. 

“I wanted to write something that would, like, encompass how I’ve been feeling over these past few weeks, and how people have been feeling about it.” She switched the chord, repositioning her hands and began playing again. “That was just the-the beginning.” She muttered, then took a breath and sang.  _ “In the dark you were swept away… And the world wouldn’t let you stay. All the words that I want to say… I can’t find.”   _ Her voice was soft, hesitating with each string of words. Another pause, another reposition.  _ “I am lost in remembering-- _ I don’t know what to fill this line with but the next one is-- _ Will your face keep on lingering in my mind?”  _

When she started to hum the bridge, she let go of the instrument and flipped the pages. “Zoe, this is beautiful so far.” Evan spoke. He was genuine, because she was being open with him. Her voice was cracking, and her playing was awkward, but she meant it. Her heart was in her work.

She gave him a small smile. “I really like this one verse. It’s not for a bit, but…” 

Evan leaned against the wall, light poured in the room from the window.

_ “The sky collapsed without a sound, as broken pieces hit the ground. The rain fell down around me… and I drowned. I will save you.”  _ She grew quiet and tense. Her hands stopped playing. She took a breath, releasing the tension that was locked inside her. “That’s all I have so far.”

She gave Evan a smile, crooked and friendly. “Thanks for listening.” She said, and Evan raised his hand in a wave before making his exit.

He started down the stairs as the front door opened. Mr. Murphy came in, he looked less pale and more lively. 

“Hello, sir.” Evan said, giving a wave.

“Oh, you’re here again?” Mr. Murphy said, he didn’t sound annoyed. The small formation of a smile was on his lip. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“No, no… I should leave.” the teenager went and retrieved his bag. Mr. Murphy was still in the foyer when Evan got to the door. “Sorry, I just have a lot on my plate.” 

Mr. Murphy smiled, and reached out his hand. “It’s always a pleasure having you here, Evan. Come by again sometime.”

Evan returned the smile, and shook the man's hand. His grip was strong, lively and all there. As if he were present in the moment, and realizing that this was a farewell.

  
  


***

 

I woke up to rain. The drops tapping my window as if welcoming me. Overhead, dim artificial light stung my eyes. The rhythmic beeps of a monitor and chatter from outside was all I heard.

And the rain.

I was elevated slightly, head raised so I could look at the thin blankets that were around me. Ace bandages were wrapped around by arms, with tubes sticking out of my wrist. I’d been to enough doctors to know why my wrist hurt slightly, and I didn’t have to follow the tube to locate the IV drip.

What I remembered was foggy.  _ It was the first day of school.  _ That was what was stuck in my head.  _ First day of school.  _

I looked out the window, at the rain. I wish I could open the window. Feel it on my skin, but my body felt like it was getting pressed down by invisible weight. All I could manage was to steadily move my head. 

A woman walked in. Carrying a clipboard, she had long blonde hair, and pretty blue eyes. Her scrubs were blue, with tie-dyed butterflies. She didn’t notice me. 

“Okay, time to check your vit--” She froze once she looked up from the stack of papers. I’d heard her voice so much before, she was my night-nurse. The one who I wanted to talk to. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. There was something I wanted to say to her. “Oh, my God.” She muttered, nearly dropping the clipboard. She was wearing worn in sneakers, I got to see them when she sped out of the room.

 

The small moment of solitude I had was over, and a part of me wished I could have had it for a bit longer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy you're awake Connor.
> 
> Thank you to Popurikat on tumblr for critiquing my work and leaving nice comments and thoughts at 3am.
> 
> Thank you for reading this story too! Happy trails Michael Park and JLT. They were everyone's parents.
> 
> Also, I've had this hc that Zoe can't actually play guitar since I first heard Hiding in your Hand. She can't get the chord progressions down right.  
> Also. Shout out to anyone who catches the reference about Connor's day nurse c:
> 
> Thank you for reading
> 
> -SKQuill


	9. Uphill Climb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan is swept up into the Project of creating an orchard, while Connor tries to recollect the missing patches in his memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back from college hell for a bit.
> 
> So, happy holidays! Have a chapter. it's been a while, and I;m so thankful that you all are so patient. This release is special.  
> I hope you all are well.
> 
> \--SKQuill

“Hello Connor Project members! It’s me, Beck, co-president, associate treasurer, media consultant, chief technology officer, and assistant creative director slash public policy director for creative public initiatives for the Connor Project.” Beck announced with a smile. Her face was close to the camera. Evan, on the other hand, was sitting in his bedroom. Rocking left and right on his swivel-chair as Beck spoke.

“And I’m Evan. The other co-president of the Connor Project.” He raised his hand, waving to the camera, giving the best smile he could muster. He woke up with a headache, and it bounced around his brain as he went through the day. Everything sounded too loud, or looked too bright. His heart pounded against his rib cage too quickly. 

“I wish I could see all of your faces, Evan and I _just_ were talking about what we should call all you amazing people.” Beck said. The teenager just nodded. The conversation she was talking about was brief, and one sided. “We joked that we should call you all ‘saplings’.” Beck laughed, it sounded artificial and as soon as she did it, she perked up a bit more. “In any case, I know all of you are wondering about any developments with this project since starting it, and  _ that  _ is why we wanted to talk with you all today.” 

The number of people following the account, and watching the video of Evan’s speech was reaching the mid hundred thousands. Last time Evan checked it was reaching 590,000. 

_ It still doesn’t feel real.  _ Evan thought, his eyes drifted to his hands. They felt clammy with sweat and shook as if he was cold. He took a deep breath, and rubbed his eyes. “Thank you for checking out the video I’ve put up with the Murphy’s. And even more, thank you for understanding that new videos will be slow since Connor is in rehab right now.” Evan got out, blinking at his screen. His hand moved to turn down the brightness. “As you all know, Connor loved the Apple Smile Orchard. He took me there and we looked at all the trees--”

“Connor  _ was obsessed with  _ trees!!” Beck cut him off. Her perkiness faltered for a moment. “He loved looking at the trees, being with the trees, eating the fruit from the trees…” She steadied herself. “And it’s that love of greenery that brings up our next big occasion on this Project.”

Occasion was the wrong word. Evan’s headache was too loud to think of a better word. His thoughts were scattered and erratic. “He’d really like to see the orchard come back to life.” Evan put in. 

“Which is why we are starting…” Beck pressed her enter key and the screen changed. Replacing her face was a sketch of a blossoming orchard, with all kinds of apple trees, cherry trees, peach, pine, oak. Even a garden of herbs and flowers. Ferns, daisies, sunflowers. “The Connor Murphy Orchard!”

“A Kickstarter with per--”

Beck, coming in with a knife once again and cutting Evan’s words in half. “The  _ most ambiguous Patreon fund ever created!!” _ She spoke over him. “To raise fifty thousand dollars, in three weeks.”

“I know it’s a lot.” Evan got out. Trying to ease the thousands of people who probably were staring at their wallets. “But it’s--”

Beck, with the knife again. “It’s a lot of amazing, and for a good cause!!”

“Thank you for all you’ve shared with us.” Evan said. “Thank you for showing Connor that he matters.” 

And just like that the video was over. The green light that signaled the camera being on, turned off. Evan was alone in his room. Once again, like clockwork his phone buzzed.

**Beckford @ Senior year! (@ABeck):** Great job co-pres!! You seemed a bit out of sorts today? Is everything alright? Wanna talk about it? I always find that a good way to clear my mind is diving into a project, so if you want to chat we--

Evan put his phone on sleep mode. He staggered to his feet, each step being a struggle. He grabbed his backpack and exited the room. His weekly med case had been untouched for a few days now. The teenager had stopped taking them since the pills weren’t helping his overwhelming fear and guilt.

 

***

 

I had a crazy schedule. It started the morning after I woke up. Nancy the day nurse came in and explained the situation. “You’re currently in ICU, intensive Care Unit. We’re going to move you to Peds--Pediatrics. Though…” She hesitated. “It’s unsure if you will stay in Peds or go to the Psych ward.” She gave me a half smile, her eyebrows furrowed with uncertainty.

So that’s where I was now. The children's section of the hospital. It had been two days since then.

“Are you eating?” Mom asked as she sat down near my bed. I had the large room to myself. I gave her a slow nod. 

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out expect a slurry of unrecognized words. “Thes f-odds badls herfd.” That’s what it sounded like, I think. I could eat fine, my mouth just felt numb. Regardless, Mom put her hand on my cheek and I let her stay there. My wrists and arms were still bandaged up, but she held my hand.

“I love you, Connor. You know that.” Mom’s voice was so small. “No one is mad at you, no one blames you for anything.” I knew she meant well, but her words sounded hollow to me. Maybe they would mean more if I could talk back, or walk, or move anything other than a few of my fingers at the moment. Regardless, I could just stare at her. 

“How long will it take for him to make a full recovery?” Mom looked toward Nancy the day nurse, who was hanging back against the wall as if ready to exit at any moment. 

“Rehabilitation can take weeks, though because he has to relearn how to speak, walk, and move it might take longer.”

Mom’s face twisted for a moment,  I couldn’t tell if she was on the verge of crying or smiling, or if it was anger. She nodded, her grip on my hand tightened; yet was still gentle. She looked at me, leaning in and planting a kiss on my head. “You’re going to pull through.” She muttered. “I know you will.”

  
  


I don’t remember much of what happened, if I’m being honest. The closest I got to recalling anything was being in that park, a kid being  _ way too  _ fucking nice and letting me rest there. I didn’t even remember his name, or if he was the one to make the call for the ambulance to appear. The leaves outside were changing into yellow and reds, falling to the ground with each rain storm that happened. 

“Alright!” Nancy placed my hands on the upper bars. “Don’t worry this isn’t my first time helping someone walk again.” She had hooked a harness to me, attaching it to her waist. “You ready?” 

I wasn’t. But I was already up, and my locked up fingers were already gripping the bars. “Azz illlva b.” I slurred. I was creating my own language at this point. Nancy chuckled.

“On three.” She slowly counted up. 

And once she was done counting up, I moved forward and fell down.

Legs felt like dead weight. My fingers shook as I gripped the support railings and struggled to get back on my feet. 

“You’re doing great, Connor.” Nancy said, “Getting back up is good.” She helped me get back my momentum, pulling at the harness. Even with her help, getting back up was a struggle, I was breathless and could feel the coolness of sweat on my neck.

I gasped out. “Ooo rac clin?” Tugging at ropes reminded me of rock climbing, I’d only been two or three times. Heights aren’t really my thing. Even though I was harnessed in, with the person below me supporting me if I lost my grip; the feeling of free fall terrified me.

“Rock climb?” Nancy translated as I fell once more. “No, though I have a few friends that do.” She brought me back up on the support bars. “You?” She turned the question back to me as sweat started to cling to my palm. 

“Scars me.” I felt a tingle go through my legs. A mix of pain and numbness, as if someone had hit my funny bone. “Hights.” I exhaled. 

“As one of my friends says, ‘same hat’.” Nancy chuckled as I got a nice meeting with the blue safety mats that I was walking on. 

“You ave wired frends.” I swallowed. For the first time since I woke up my mouth didn’t feel like it was choking out cotton. My hesitation to get up was enough for Nancy to note that I was exhausted. 

She unharnessed me and watched as I tumbled to the blue mats. “You gonna sleep there?” She had a sense of humor, I liked it. “Because even though those get washed everyday, I still think they aren’t clean.” 

I gave her my best grin, I was laughing on the inside. Once she helped me into my hospital wheelchair we started the return to my room. 

“I’m proud of you today, Connor.” She said as we rounded the corner, stopped abruptly to let two staff people by. They carried a small shopping cart, red and blue baskets with paper bags. One of them was in black scrubs, talking about getting hot chocolate on the way back to the cave, her glasses hiding the dark circles under her eyes. “You made progress in the walking department.” Nancy said, bringing me back to the one sided conversation. “All you have left today is speech, and finger practice.”

I was alright with speech, it was more based on how much talking I did in the day. Loosening my jaw and making it feel like I wasn’t speaking with something in my mouth. Getting feeling back in my fingers was the hard part, they had me move rubber bands from one peg to the next. Sort out color pieces into stacks of reds, blues and yellows. Hold a pencil as best I could and try to write something;. It was tedious. It made me feel like I was a child. 

“Just take one day at a time. One moment, at a time.” Nancy said as we went into the elevator. 

“Con I ax you somethin?” I was getting better at forming syllables, making words flow into each other. The delivery was hard, since I knew exactly what I wanted to say.

“Shoot.”

“Do peopl c-all yooo Gab-bee? Becuz you tahlk so much?” 

Nancy was quiet. We got out at my floor. I tried to look at her, but since she was directing my chair it was impossible. 

I heard her exhale, long and audible. “You’re not the first person to say that. Every patient I’ve watched over has said that. It’s a curse of mine.” She said as I got to my room.

“Caan I call you Gabby?” That was the first sentence I didn’t have trouble speaking. I gave her a smile, and a slight eyebrow raise. 

Her hazel eyes looked full of memories, but her smirk was what got me the most. “You can call me Gabby,” She relented. 

“Tank you fur th wahlk, Gabbee.” I smiled as she lifted me into my bed.

“Thank you for doing so well today, Connor.” Gabby said, her voice was full of light and fun. I could tell that this was a moment she would keep in her memories. 

***

_ Dear Evan Hansen,  _

_ Life at rehab is going good. I’m learning how to stop smoking drugs. And move on to better things. Like, fun fact, did you know that people will sneak meth in? And to get it, all I have to do is give them a blowjob-- _

“Jared…” Evan muttered. Tears were forming in his eyes from his headache. His phone lay on his bed, with Jared on the other end. His computer had the email open, reading over the fake email Jared had made.

“Yeah, Evan?” Jared’s smirk was audible.

“Do you take constructive criticism?” the teen whispered.

“No!” Jared chuckled. “Now keep reading.”

With a sigh, Evan relented.

_ Oh, by the way. One more thing before I go. Remember that guy from school? Jared Kleinman? YEAH, THAT INSANELY COOL DUDE. I think we should start hanging out with him more. _

“Okay, no, Jared, obviously not!” Evan stated, bringing the phone closer to him. “The emails are just between me and Connor, you can’t be involved  _ at all.”  _

“You sound like you’re about to cry, dude.”

“ _ I am about to cry, Jared!”  _ Evan said into his phone. “Because you’re trying to change the story of me and Connor being friends, when it is just that. It’s about me and Connor being friends!”

“Yeah, because it’s so fool proof that you and him were friends, nothing more and nothing less.” Jared scoffed. “Also, if you want me to redo the email, I won’t be available ‘til Monday. Me and my bunk mates are going to hang out. You know, my  _ real  _ friends.”

“I think I’m good on emails.” Evan disregarded Jared’s comment entirely. 

“Oh…” Jared got quiet. “Well, I can do more stuff with the Kickstarter, since I am the treasurer and all.”

“But you  _ just  _ said that you were busy.” Even with the constant headaches and twitching, Evan could still grab hold of points of the conversation. 

“Yeah, but…” Jared muttered. “I just wa--’

The knock at the door caused Evan to instantly end the call. His heart racing, he threw the email into his trash folder and tried to look busy as his mother entered the room. 

She wore her regular scrubs. “What’cha up to, bud?” 

“Nothing much.” He replied. “Homework.” He couldn’t meet her gaze.

“I thought I heard someone on the phone with you?” Her hand was still curled around the doorknob, this was going to be a short conversation.

“Yeah.. uh… Jared. I had some spanish questions since we’re doing a project.” the beating of the teens heart just added more noise to his brain. 

His mother straightened up. She entered the room, Evan closed his computer and put it in his bag. “Do you have a minute?” Her voice was soft. 

“Well, I was gonna go to Jared’s, to work on this project, so no. Not-not really.” Evan couldn’t look at her, he had his back toward her. He heard the floor creak as she stepped into his room.

“I saw this video on my Facebook. With you in it.” 

Evan’s fingers curled around his backpack. 

His mother let out a chuckle, sad and confused. “Why didn’t you tell me that it was the same Connor? The name on your cast, it’s from the same boy, the one who tried…”

“I didn’t want you to worry.” Evan muttered, he felt his mom sit next to him. Worry was written on her face, but it was a mixture of something else. “Didn’t want…. Didn’t want you to know that… he’s my friend.”

Her arm wrapped around his shoulder. Pulling him close. It felt suffocating, like he was caged in. “So, you didn’t break your arm when you were at the park? At work?”

Evan shook his head. “I was with Connor.” He lied. 

“I’d love to have him over sometime. You and him seem to be good friends.” His mother smiled, her hand fell from his shoulder. “You going somewhere?” She motioned toward his backpack.

Evan looked down at his bag. “Uh, yeah… Sorry it’s sudden. It’s for that spanish project. With Jared.”

His mom nodded. “I have to head out too, but… Can you promise me something.”

An electric shock blasted through his brain. “What…” he croaked, pulling his backpack on.

“I know you’re busy being a senior, but just…” she rose, stepping away from him to let him go. They were the same height. She had dark circles under her eyes, and he was shaking from withdrawal. “Invite your friends over. I want to meet them.”

Evan just nodded. He watched his mother start toward the door. “You good on--” She started.

“I stopped taking them actually!” He cut her off. His fingers wrapped around the straps of his backpack. “I don’t… they weren’t helping me. I just think I came up with better ways to deal with all my anxiety and not have to take drugs.”

His mother smiled, and it stabbed him in the back. “That’s great, sweetie. I’m so proud of you.”

 

***

Evan balanced himself on the work table as Mr. Murphy was taking antiques out of a box. “Will Connor miss any of this stuff?” The teenager asked, his eyes went over the objects. “Did he play baseball?” It was a mess of encased balls, mitts, old jersey shirts, and cleats.

“Once.” Mr. Murphy spoke. “Though he stopped pretty early on. By the time you met him, I’m sure he hadn’t played in years.” His voice carried a chuckle. 

“Why’d he stop?” Evan tried imagining Connor in a baseball uniform. Covered in dirt from sliding on the white plates. His hat scuffed up. 

“He…” Mr. Murphy took a breath. “He said that he didn’t like competitive sports. Stopped when he was just entering middle school,” The father hesitated. “The last game he played in, his team won… but there was a moment where Connor was out in left field, and he couldn’t catch a ball. The opposing team one a single point. Connor then, lost it.” The father trailed off.

“Like he lost the ball?” Evan felt new pangs bounce around his head. As if someone was banging on the walls of his brain, scrambling his thoughts.  _ Baseball. Connor playing baseball.  _ He told himself. All he could picture was Connor from the first day of school. Long hair up in a bun, under a worn sports team hat.

“No no.” Mr. Murphy smiled. But he faltered. “He started crying. Blaming himself, beating himself up about it.”

A baseball jersey. The button up kind, covered in dirt. Black pants. “Did you talk to him about it?”

“He cried the rest of the way home. Even though his team won! I said to him, ‘Connor, you shouldn’t be so hung up on something like this. Tomorrow is a new day of practice’.” The father chuckled, recalling the conversation. “He said that his team would hate him for making that mistake.”

His cleats would be scuffed up. Connor would swing the bat, practicing. His face and arms shining with sweat.

Evan took a breath, the crack of the bat causing his head to throb. A wave of heat swept over him, followed by cold sweats.

“He never brought that up.” Evan muttered. 

“Understandable… Anytime I wanted to play catch with him, he’d decline, and move somewhere I wasn’t.” Mr. Murphy said.

“You and him aren’t that close?” It wasn’t that hard to tell that Mr. Murphy and Connor wouldn’t get along. It seemed like a clash of personality. Mr. Murphy seemed distant, though in the months that Evan has gotten to know him, he’s opened up. He didn’t smell vaguely of whiskey. He smelt like shampoo and cologne now. 

The teen still had the image of Connor playing baseball. A crooked smile on his face as practice is over, smiling to see Evan on the other side of the fence. He’d lean against the fence, fingers curling around the wires.

“As he got older, I stopped finding things in common.” Mr. Murphy voiced. He elbowed Evan in the side, getting his attention, ripping him away from the daydream. “Your dad is lucky to have a kid like you! I’m sure you two get along so well.”

Evan smiled. “Uh, yeah! We…” His brain was buzzing, torn between the daydream, the current conversation, and the hazy memory of his father. His hands rummaged through the box taking out a black leather baseball mitt. “We used to play catch, but then I broke my arm.”

Mr. Murphy smiled. 

“Dad! Evan?” Zoe came into the garage, standing in the doorway. The two looked up. “Mom made lunch, she wanted to know how long to wait for you.” She looked at Evan. “You wanna join us?”

“Sure!” Evan didn’t need the extra noise of conversation, the tink of silverware on plates; but free food was free food.

“We’ll be right out.” Mr. Murphy answered. 

“Evan, is he boring you?”

“What?!” Evan’s eyebrows shot up. “No, no he’s not boring me!”

“He’s having a good time.” Mr. Murphy joined in.

“Do you want to leave? You can leave if you want to.” Zoe chuckled. She had a bowl of strawberries and nibbled on one. 

“I’m having fun!”

“He likes baseball, we’re talking about baseball.” The father said, his voice cracking.

“Connor didn’t like baseball--”

“He sure didn’t!” Evan cut her off before she could continue. “But… I like baseball. Learning about it, at least.” 

Zoe shrugged, she turned to go. “You know what they say about pitchers and catchers…” She took another bite of fruit. 

“Did you do what Mom asked?” Mr. Murphy said before the door closed.

“Yup.” Zoe’s voice spoke up as she disappeared behind the closed door.

The father and teen exchanged a silent look. 

“Women, right?” Mr. Murphy said, joking to clear the air.

“Uh… sure.” Evan looked down at the glove. “In any case…” Evan felt his words choke up in his throat. “I don’t know why I said that to you, by the way. About my dad and I. He and my mom divorced when I was young, he lives in Colorado now. With a family of his own.” 

_ He doesn’t even send birthday cards.  _

Mr. Murphy looked at him. His brown eyes burning into Evan’s mind. The father then raised his hand, patting Evan’s shoulder. Evan couldn’t tell if the father had shaken him a bit, or if he was nauseous. “Do you know the perfect way to break in a glove?”

Evan shook his head. The glove that he had in his hands was hard, stiff, and closed. 

“You take shaving cream, rub it into the glove, then tie it up with rubber bands and sleep on it.” Mr. Murphy looked so proud to reveal the secret.

“How long do you do that for?” Evan imagined a shaving cream covered glove under his mattress. Explaining why there’s a big stain on the underside his bed seemed impossible to comprehend. 

“Till it’s broken in. You have to do it everyday, consistently. Don’t break the daily ritual of it. That’s the best part of it.” Mr. Murphy smiled. “I can give you the glove, and the supplies if you want to use it.”

_ Oh..  _ Evan smiled. “Thanks… That means a lot.”

“Maybe you can get Connor to start playing again.” 

“Maybe...”

 

***

 

Zoe sat at the foot of the hospital bed. One leg up, her shoe tip covered in ink stars. Her visits were always like this, her keeping busy with homework so she wouldn’t have to look up at me. I had nothing to look at except her, so my eyes wandered to the white box of a room I was in. 

“How’s skool?” I always tried to start a conversation with Zoe when she was here. I had gotten better at talking, yet still struggled with some words.

“Fine.” She didn’t look up from her work. Her grip tightened on her pen anytime I spoke. “Jazz band is fine too. I still can’t get the changing chords right.” 

“You sill learing that song?” I asked, usually our conversations didn’t go beyond one word answers.

She didn’t answer this time. And the room went quiet once again. 

“It’s real weird to see the leafs change.” I looked out my window at the yellow and reds that danced in the wind. Falling off with a big gust and out of my view. “Las time I saw the treez, they were green.” 

Zoe, again, didn’t look up. 

I was never good with change. Sometimes when i’d feel really depressed and out of wack, I’d write down what was making me sad. A therapist had recommended that. The first one, without fail was always ‘the weather’. Last thing I remember was the summer breeze and green leaves. Now the air was crisp and the trees all looked like they were on fire. It disoriented me, because I didn’t see how they changed. I didn’t see how it started. I didn’t see how it gradually changed, and how I stayed exactly the same.

There wasn’t much to change from. The only change I felt was being tired, and unable to move much. Zoe got off the bed, taking her homework and went toward her backpack. 

“You leafing?” I asked. She unzipped her bag, putting the homework inside.  _ I probably made her mad in some way.  _

She nodded her head, and pulled out a number of books. “Mom wanted to make sure you got these.” Turning to me, she had six books. All from my room, even a journal that she rested her chin on.

The books ranged in length and genre.  _ The Complete Tales of Winnie the Pooh, Percy Jackson books four and five, The Little Prince, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, The Goldfinch. _

“Thanks.” I muttered as she put the books on the table next to the bed. 

Zoe hesitated, she was frozen as her grip tightened around the journal. No words came out when she opened her mouth.

“What?” I muttered. I definitely had made her mad in some way. I heard her shoe hit the floor as she forced out her words.

“Nothing…” She deflated. It didn’t seem like nothing. “You read too many books. I’m surprised you and Evan didn’t have a book club.”

I felt my world shift then, a spark igniting in my mind when she said that name. A fragment of my memory slowing finding its place. The name floated around the room. Familiar and warm, yet fragile and sad. I couldn’t recall anything about him, except for a small conversation in a field. The shade of a big tree covering me and someone else.

“How do you know him?” I voiced, finally after what felt like forever. But the room was empty. Any trace of Zoe was gone.

 

***

 

Evan sat, frozen at his desk. He had left the Murphy’s house, feeling dazed. His brain, at least the part that wasn’t either suffering from headaches, or digesting what Mrs. Murphy had dropped on, was on autopilot.

He had no recollection of how he got home. The house was quiet, as it always was. He was alone.

Shocks rode through his body, chills ran down his spine. 

_ Connor is awake _ . The teen thought. Connor’s alive.

Evan swallowed, bringing his legs up and hugging his knees. Mrs. Murphy cried as she told Evan the news. 

_ ‘He’s okay!’ That’s what she said.  _

It crushed Evan. “Why though?” He muttered, choking out his words as his brain sent electricity through his body.

His phone dinged, sending him back into the present. Beck had given out her number to both him and Jared, so they could communicate better.

**Beck:** Hey Evan. I was wondering if you wanted to meet, just you and me, and discuss plans for the orchard and future club meetings. It doesn’t have to be formal at all, since I know it’s late.

It was 8pm. Darkness covered the earth outside. All the leaves were either on the ground or just about to fall off with a big gust. Evan swallowed, his thumbs tapped on the screen. His mind kept splitting between headaches and a single thought.  _ Connor.  _ Everything reminded him of Connor. Maybe it was the news, maybe it was the darkness outside. Evan didn’t have his cast anymore, it got sawed off. The letters of Connor’s name, his handwriting, got cut in half. The cast itself was under Evan’s bed. He didn’t want to look at it anymore. 

He didn’t notice what he had typed till it was sent. Beck even replied back with the thumbs up.

**Evan:** Sure. We could meet at the Ellison Park playground.

 

_ Maybe being around the trees will make me feel better. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for being patient!  
> Thank you Popurikat on tumblr for reading this over and helping with edits
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> SkQuill

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this.
> 
> It's been in the works for a while. Before the book was announced.
> 
> Happy End of May or Early June.
> 
> Thank you to Popurikat on tumblr for your words, encouragement, memes, and edits. 
> 
> \--Skquill


End file.
